For the Ones You Love
by apenny12
Summary: An introspective account of Beth understanding the brutal honestly of her own words to Daryl; "You can't depend on anybody for anything, right?" She should have run the moment she heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance...Beth didn't move. *Set after season 4: episode 13 - "Alone" *Rating for language and graphic depictions of violence. *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you **Nicole137137 for sending me edits on this chapter! XOXO

...

She should have run the moment she heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. She should have already been hidden when the headlights blinded her as she stood in the middle of the road. She should have done a lot of things before that black car stopped in front of her and a man stepped out of the vehicle, but between her sprained ankle, adrenaline-high from escaping the walkers, and Daryl's promise that he would meet her on the road, Beth didn't move.

_Daryl will come._

When the man approached her, balding head shining in the moonlight, smiling impishly and treating her as a wounded, wild animal, Beth's instincts had screamed to her to _run_! Run as far and as fast as her incapacitated ankle would allow. When his large, chapped hands grabbed her upper arm, she was relinquished from her stupor and began to struggle. She ripped at his hand, holding her firmly, while his other hand and the glistening tool he was holding stayed hidden in the shadows. She pushed and pulled, trying to get herself free of his bruising grip, losing her backpack in the process, screaming for Daryl at the top of her lungs.

In a stupid move, she turned her attention away from her attacker, desperately searching for Daryl. She felt a sudden prick to her neck, whipping her head back around in time to catch the man extracting a syringe. The already dark world went completely black around her. She could hear Daryl's reprimands; _"Stupid girl. What the hell were ya' thinkin'? Lookin' for me when you got more m'portant things to worry 'bout."_ Followed by, _"You got some dick tryin' t'get you 'n instead of worryin' 'bout yourself, you're lookin' 'round."_ While she wasn't sure her mental impersonation of Daryl quite did him justice, she was sure of one thing.

_Daryl will come._

_..._

Beth awoke with a jolt. She felt a sensation she hadn't felt in quite some time, since before they had taken over the prison. She felt like she was floating. She could hear the hum of the engine, furthering her realization that she was in a vehicle. It was dark, still night time, but there were no windows; the stars hidden from her view.

Slowly tracing her fingers around her, heaving a sigh of relief that her hands and feet weren't bound, she felt a course, scratchy material around her; most likely carpet. She deduced that her attacker had placed her in the trunk. After feeling more comfortable in knowing _where_ she was, she next took inventory of her person. Her neck hurt, she had a slight headache, and her ankle felt sore and stiff, but all were bearable. Having no other known injuries, she took stock of what she still had on her. Her clothes were intact, and she mentally thanked whatever God they had above for that, but her knife…Daryl's knife, was no longer in it's sheath attached to her belt.

Another jolt startled Beth as the vehicle drove over a pothole. She closed her eyes, listening intently past the dull hum of the car's engine. She could hear crackling beneath the tires. They were on a dirt road. Asphalt would have hummed similarly to that of the engine.

She had subconsciously learned the difference between asphalt and dirt roads when she had been learning to drive. The radio in the old farm truck hadn't worked, so all she had was the wind blowing through the cab and the tread of the tires on the road. Daryl would have been proud of her.

Shaking her messy hair, Beth wiped the bittersweet memories of _before_ out of her head, and got back to her task at hand. She had to find a weapon. Something. _Anything_. She had no idea where she was being taken, but she knew that if whoever had taken her got her inside of where ever they were going, she would never come back out alive. She would eventualy be killed…or worse; come back as a walker.

Daryl had been teaching her how to track, how to use a crossbow, and she had drastically increased her endurance from the weeks they had been travelling non-stop. He had been instilling in her the qualities of a hunter; observe, develop a plan for the quickest, cleanest way to get the job done, and always be aware of your surroundings. That while she may be the hunter, she could still become prey if she focused too much on one thing and blocked out her environment. She repeated Daryl's advice like a mantra, mentally preparing herself for what would be the fight of her life.

Feeling the sides of the trunk, hoping to find a spare compartment for the jack, she felt a bitter taste in her mouth when the walls were solid. Taking a deep breath, she then felt beneath her prone form, thinking maybe the jack would be in the floorboard. To her relief, she found the plastic, twist knob that released part of the floor to the jack compartment underneath. Scooting back as far as her body would allow; she managed to awkwardly open the jack compartment.

A sob escaped her lips when there was no jack, no levers, no _nothing_ in the empty space beneath her. She could use the lid. Throw it at the man's face when he opened the trunk and then she could run. The problem with that scenario was she wouldn't get very far, very fast with her ankle, and if the man had a gun he would likely shoot her before she could get herself to relative safety.

She tried to think of what Daryl would do in this situation. He had always been good at improvisation. He had told her once that, _"Gotta' use what ya got. Ain't no more Wal-Marts or manufacturers gonna' make shit for ya' anymore. Gotta' learn to make due or you're gonna' get yer'self dead."_ Daryl would probably end this man. He would expect Beth to do the same, but she couldn't bring herself to the thought of killing anyone. Walkers were one thing, but a human being? A living, _breathing_, human being? It just wasn't in her nature. As it were, it came down to this stranger who had kidnapped her or her own life. She wasn't left with many options.

Having opened the jack compartment, she realized she had given herself enough room to squat down in the trunk. It would be easier to attack the man if she was crouched than trying to kick her way out of the trunk while lying down. She had a plan on _how_ to get out of the trunk at least, but she still had no idea what she was going to do afterwards.

She grabbed at the sheath to Daryl's knife hoping for a bit of comfort. A small smile spread across her lips when a new plan flourished. Even not being physically with her, Daryl Dixon still had his ways of helping her. Feeling a bit more confident, having come up with what she considered a 'quick and clean' plan of action; Beth could only wait for the inevitable to happen.

As rays of sunshine filtered through the cracks of the trunk, her stomach plummeted. Even if she managed to escape this man, assuming he didn't have a gang waiting for him when he pulled up to their destination, she had been in the car's trunk for hours. This detestable excuse for a human being had been driving for _hours_. She didn't know if he was driving in circles, making it impossible to be followed, or if his place had been so far from the mortuary. She had no idea which direction to travel. She had no idea how she would even get her bearings, assuming she lived long enough to do so once she followed through with her plan. She had no idea how to get back to Daryl.

_Daryl will come._

She wasn't sure how many times she had told herself that. Daryl wasn't a knight in shining armor, this wasn't some fairytale, and she was over being the damsel in distress. She had always felt so safe with Daryl. They had grieved together, in their own ways, and grown together after the prison fell. He was all she had in this world. While she hoped and prayed that Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carl, her sweet Judith, and everyone else had made it out alive. That they were out there roughing it just like her and Daryl, however, she had begun to accept the reality that maybe only she and Daryl had survived. They had been traveling for weeks and hadn't found anyone. Daryl was her everything now and while she wanted to believe that he would come, she knew the likelihood of that happening was slim. Daryl didn't have a vehicle. If the kidnapper was purposely driving in circles or to a far off location, Daryl wouldn't be able to track forever. He was a good…no. Daryl was a great man, but he was just that; a man. One man in the zombie apocalypse. Her words to him on the porch of the moonshiner's shack suddenly coursed through her.  
_  
"You can't depend on anybody for anything, right?"_

She was on her own.

_Daryl wasn't coming…_

**A/N: **So after totally falling in love with the idea of Beth and Daryl becoming an item, but started reading fanfictions with their pairing. I was a bit upset to find that there weren't a whole lot that had Beth develop past her character in the episode 'Alone.' So I decided to remedy that.

This was originally a one-shot that turned into a six or seven chapter story (I'm currently writing the last chapter right now). If I receive enough of a response, I'll probably continue the story or consider writing a trilogy. Actually have the whole plot planned out in my head. Just depends on you guys and if this is a story you want to read more of! So please let me know!

XOXO


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you** Nicole137137 for being awesome and sending me the edits for this chapter!

...

Beth felt the car slow down, gradually losing the wonderful floating sensation she had been reviling in. Knowing it was now or never, Beth unclasped her belt; sliding it through her belt loops. She disregarded the sheath to Daryl's knife in the hopes that she would retrieve it when she was done.

There was a loud screeching of brakes and Beth felt the car come to a halt. As quietly as possible, she climbed into the hollow that would have held the car jack, clutching the cover with one hand so tightly her knuckles were white. The other hand held her leather belt, looped in a noose-like fashion within itself.

She listened as the car door opened and slammed shut, jostling her slightly, and nearly knocking her off balance. She tried to hear if there were any other voices approaching, but all was completely silent. She could hear the jingling of keys, a brief pause, and then the trunk began to creak open.

The moment the man's face came into sight, Beth lunged, using the lid as a kind of shield. The man hadn't accounted for the possibility that she would be awake and fell backwards onto the ground.

"Got a lively one, don't we?" The man smiled, licking his lips.

Beth refused to rise to the bait. Instead she scrambled to her feet from where she too had feel forward onto all fours and threw the cover at the kidnappers face. When the man lifted his hands to deflect the lid, Beth jumped on top of him, straddling his chest as she tried to force her belt around the man's neck.

"Crazy bitch! I had planned on having fun with ya before we got down to tha' nitty gritty," the man hissed while seizing Beth's wrists.

Beth didn't stop struggling. If she was going to die, she was going to go down fighting. She wasn't the same Beth Greene from her daddy's farm. She wasn't even the same girl from their makeshift 'home' at the prison. She had to make her daddy proud; his memory was worth fighting for, and she had to find Maggie…and Daryl. Daryl would be looking for her. She had to make sure he found her.

Lost in the euphoria of seeing red, Beth gasped for air as the man's hands clamped around her throat. Somewhere in the midst of things, she had managed to get the belt around the man's neck, but was unable to pull it tight enough to suffocate him. Losing her strength to fight as it became harder and harder to breath, her attacker forced her on her back, straddling her legs.  
She dug her fingernails into his hands, but her arms felt like they were on fire. She could see faint lines of blood starting to seep from within her skin where the man had clawed at her. Unable to get any oxygen, her head began to feel light, her vision swam, and tears began filling her eyes.

"I should jus' kill you. Let you b'come one of _them_. But I had to work _so hard_ t'get ya. I think I earned myself a bit'a reward. Whatta' you think?" His breath reeked of death and his yellow teeth filled her clouding vision as he leaned forward to smell her hair.

Beth couldn't respond even if she wanted to. She was still clawing at his hands, desperately panting for air. She was trying not to panic, but the more she felt asphyxiated, the harder it was to think. She had to think. She had to get him to let her go. She had to get away. She had to find Daryl.

_Daryl_.

What would Daryl do if he were here? She could almost hear him yell at her to just _"kick tha' fucker in the nuts. Ain't no man immune t'that."_

And that's exactly what she did. Having leaned forward, the man had given her a bit of leg room. As hard as she could, she brought her knee up and hit him squarely in his genital region. Beth was immediately able to suck in a gracious amount of oxygen, forcing herself to roll onto her side away from the groaning male.

"Bitch! Stupid bitch!" he yelled between moans of pain.

Beth knew this was her only chance. She hadn't had time to catch her breath, but there wasn't time to do anything else. She had to take care of the threat. She ground her teeth as she made herself clamber onto her hands and knees. From there she forced herself to stand, bracing her hands on her thighs as she tried to gather her strength. She managed to stand, wobbling a bit as she did, and took heavy steps to the man still groaning in the fetal position.

She bent over and grabbed the loose end of her belt, gaining the man's full attention as he felt it tighten around his neck. Bracing the foot she had hurt against his chest, Beth pulled with all her might. Still weakened, the man made an attempt to grab at her ankle. She wanted to cry out in pain as he tried to pry her foot off his chest, but Beth was resolute. Instead of giving into the pain, she pressed down harder on his chest, trying to stand up straight as she continued pulling the belt tighter. The man was sputtering now, spit projecting out of his mouth at he tried to curse her, his face turning red with his effort.

It felt like hours.

When his eyes finally rolled into the back of his head and his body went limp, Beth removed her throbbing ankle from his chest. Taking a few steps back, scanning her surroundings for walkers and people alike, she was relieved to find herself unaccompanied. All she wanted to do was collapse on the ground, but she knew she wasn't safe. Not yet. She had to put distance between this man and herself.

Glancing down, she couldn't help but feel relief and regret when she saw the steady rise and fall of her kidnapper's chest. She hadn't killed him, even though she knew she should, but she wasn't about to show him any courtesy and move him to where walkers couldn't get him. She had shown him more mercy than he deserved by not putting a bullet in his brain.

The thought of shooting him quickly brought her back to the thought of the weapons he had removed from her. She hobbled over to the trunk, grabbing the sheath to Daryl's knife, and closed the trunk. The keys had been left, forgotten, within the lock of the trunk. Beth quickly yanked them out and braced a hand against the car as she walked around to the front.  
Peaking inside the windows, making sure no other people or walkers were inside, because she honestly wasn't sure how sick this man was. She opened the driver's side, passenger door.

There, in the seat among some nonperishable foods, lay Daryl's knife. She reached in and grabbed it, bringing it to clutch against her chest. She allowed herself only a moment of relief before shutting the door, opening the front, and climbing in the driver's seat.

Closing and locking the doors, Beth put the key in the ignition and turned it over. The vehicle whined a few times, but never started. She released the key, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel, and tried again. Holding the key a bit longer, Beth smiled when the car roared to life.

As she drove off, her only thoughts were of how to get back from where she'd been taken. She had half a tank of gas and only knew she had to take the car back down the dirt road they'd been on when she awoke. After that, she would just have to follow her instincts and hope they were right. Daryl would be searching for her, like she was searching for him.

Beth threw the shifter into drive and started driving.  
_  
I'm coming Daryl._

**A/N: **Reviews make me happy! XOXO


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you **Nicole137137 for your continued awesomeness in sending me edits for chapters! XOXO

...

Beth was tired. So _unbelievably_ tired. She was tired, and hungry, and dehydrated beyond anything she had been in a while. The car had run out of gas long before she had even gotten close to as far as she wanted. That was okay. She preferred walking. It was quieter and sadly, it was more familiar. Strange to think that now, riding in a car wasn't something she felt comfortable with, when that was their primary means of transportation _before_. She had loved her horse, but she couldn't exactly ride Nelly to town if she wanted to get there in a reasonable amount of time.

The sun had rose and set four times since she had been separated from Daryl. She was lost, in an unfamiliar part of Georgia, and she was alone. She had cut up and made a makeshift bag out of leather material of one of the car's seats, and then slashed the tires for the principal of the matter, once it had run out of gas. There wasn't much left in the car, but anything of use went into her 'bag.' She had also been lucky enough to come across a couple of layers of clothes in an abandoned vehicle. It wouldn't be long before winter set in.

Daryl had taught her the basics, and she had picked up on more than she had thought, but she was nowhere near the master tracker her teacher was. While she was rationing the food she had taken from the car, she knew it wouldn't be long before she would have to start setting traps. She also needed a ranged weapon. She could handle her knife, as she had finally given up calling it Daryl's and claimed it as her own, but getting up close and personal with a walker while not having backup wasn't a sound strategy.

She doubted she'd come across a crossbow, and even if she did, she wasn't sure she'd be able to nock it on her own. Daryl had always had to help her with his, but he had shown her how to nock it with a rope. She'd been able to do it that way a couple of times by herself. He had mentioned that maybe they'd make a run and look for a smaller one, for her, but they'd never gotten around to it. Not too many people seemed interested in crossbows in the apocalypse so she might just luck out and find one.

She had been walking along the pavement since dawn. Judging from where the sun had rose directly overhead, she'd guess it was now around noon. Checking inside an abandoned truck and finding it walker free, Beth climbed inside. She was tired and just needed to get off her feet. Her ankle was still sore, but she couldn't stop to let it heal.

Opening a jar of half-eaten peanut butter, Beth dipped her finger inside and smiled. She wasn't sure she'd ever find her way back to Daryl. She was sure he had probably moved on. He had to. If a person stayed in one place too long, bad things happened. She felt a bit of a sting from the thought, but she didn't blame him. She _couldn't_ blame him. He had no way of knowing where she was or if she was even still alive.

She knew he had made it out of that mortuary, just like she knew he had looked for her. The dummy had probably ran all night trying to catch a car, but after nearly a week, she knew he'd of given up hope in finding her. Daryl wasn't an optimistic person. She just hoped he wasn't alone.  
If she hadn't been there, she wasn't sure what would have become of him after the prison. Then after all that nonsense she had been spouting about there still being 'good' people out there.

The confession he had all but said to her while they sat at the kitchen table that night. The tension that hung in the air between them. She still wasn't sure what that tension was, but she knew it was something.

Beth shook her head. Daryl was a survivor. She knew he'd do exactly that. Daryl might have given up the search for her, but she knew that he hoped she was still alive. After all, she was the one that had changed his mind.

...

A few days after her night in the abandoned truck, Beth had come across some sort of backwoods sporting goods store. It was situated near a lake and she nearly kept walking, but the idea of food, possibly water to refill her empty bottles, and maybe even a gun was too tempting. So instead, she quietly scouted the building. Seeing no walkers in her immediate vicinity, she walked around to a side window, perpendicular to the door, and banged loudly against the glass. All was quiet, but Daryl had taught her better to be safe than sorry, and thus she banged on the window again. This time, she could hear shuffling, and before long a decomposing corpse came into view. She waited, watching as the walker tried to reach her through the glass, to see if any more joined.

When she was sure only the one was inside, she pulled out her knife, and made her way into the small store. Dispatching of the walker before it had the chance to turn around; Beth did a quick walk-through of the building. She shut any open doors and checked the faucets for water in the one toilet bathroom. Muddy, rusty water spilled out of the spout for a few minutes before it began to run clear.

Beth could have cried. She filled her water bottles, cleaned the mud and grim off her exposed skin, and even rinsed some of the dirt out of her hair. She then drank handfuls of water until she felt sick. It had been the best tasting water she'd ever had.

Peeking through the crack of the door frame, Beth cautiously stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She walked over to the aisles and deflated at the lack of product on the shelves. She had hoped that with how isolated this place was that maybe it hadn't been looted. There were still a few obscure items that she would never have bought back _before_, but she wasn't so picky now.

Satisfied that she'd at least have a few things if her trap making attempts were a complete failure, Beth crept to the back wall labelled 'Sporting Goods.' There, she happily exchanged her car seat bag for an olive green backpack. There were a few knives left, which she took to use for cleaning what she hoped she would catch for dinner, and she rifled through the empty boxes of ammunition. She didn't have a gun, so even if she had found any ammunition, it would have been useless. The gun cases were empty, as she had predicted, but the fact that the store still had arrows in stock gave her hope. If there were arrows, then they had to have carried bows of some sort.

There was a windowless door behind the sporting goods desk and Beth knew she needed to look back there. Even if she came up with nothing, the idea of not looking and possibly missing a stash of food or a hidden gun just wasn't practical.

She tiptoed over the broken glass of the display cases, invoking stealth at a level she had only recently mastered, Beth nudge the door open. It creaked as it opposed her and Beth froze. The room was no bigger than a decent sized utility closet. The walls were lined with metal racks, practically empty, but her breath hitched when realized what the majority of what was left here entailed.

There were three crossbows and a couple of compound bows, all identical in size and weight, propped up against the wall just past the end of one metal rack. Beth rushed to them, picking up the crossbow she felt looked the most well-preserved, and examined it. It was a different brand than Daryl's, as the logo against the camouflaged limbs read MXB, and it was a bit smaller than the Horton she'd learned on, but it was still far too big for her. Testing the draw, she wasn't happy to find that she couldn't nock it. The one hundred and fifty pound draw was just too much for her. Maybe if she kept at it, she could eventually load it proficiently. For now she would have to cut the weight in half, only having to pull seventy-five pounds, using the rope technique Daryl had showed her. It took longer to load, needing to have the rope on hand to use it, but she would at least be _able_ to load a bolt.

Placing a few bolts onto the crossbow itself, Beth tucked the reaming in a quiver and stuffed it inside her backpack. The backpack wasn't quite large enough to engulf the quiver, the fletching of the bolts protruding from the zipper seam, however it would keep them in place. She couldn't find a manufactured rope loading device, but Daryl had only had a piece of everyday rope when he had taught her before. She would do the same.

She took a hesitant step away, before glancing back at the two remaining crossbows. She knew the likelihood of every finding spare parts for her new weapon would be slim. She didn't have the tools to completely take apart the limbs, riser, and stock of the crossbow, but it would be easier to try and find a new crossbow altogether if those pieces broke. She did, however, know how to replace strings of the crossbow and all Daryl had used was a ratchet. She couldn't help but get her hopes up that if they had crossbows, maybe they had the tools necessary to replace the less intricate parts.

Scouring the shelves, she came across a spool of string for a compound bow, but nothing for a crossbow. Nor did she find a ratchet that would fit the bumpers of the crossbow slung across her back. Tossing the spool in her backpack, she wasn't sure if there was a difference in the string in hand versus the one her crossbow currently held, but she would have to make due.  
Gathering her things, Beth snagged a small bundle of twine left on a shelf, and exited the store.

She'd have to sight her crossbow in, but Daryl had showed her how without having a scope. She'd also have to practice, get used to the weight and get stronger so she could nock it quickly, but at least she had a weapon she was somewhat accustomed with to defend herself.

...

Beth had lost count of how long it had been since she had been separated from Daryl. The last time frame she was aware of, it had been over three weeks. She'd been working with her crossbow religiously. She no longer needed the braided twine she had been using to nock it, but still struggled a bit to pull back the one hundred and fifty pounds of resistance. She was no longer sore from practicing and took that as a sign of improvement; remembering how her arms would be literally shaking at the end of the day from holding up the crossbow and nocking the bolts. She forced herself to hold the crossbow as she walked a majority of the time. She had to get better at using it or she was going to end up walker food. She had no delusions about living beings either.

She had come across a few people, observing them like Daryl, Rick, and the rest of the group had always gone about when it came to strangers, and traded what little she had for things she needed with people she deemed less a threat. She'd been asked to come with a couple of times, but Beth couldn't. They weren't going in the direction she wanted and more often than not, she knew they wouldn't last long. Most of them were too nice or too naïve. She honestly couldn't believe some of them had lasted as long as they had, but then again, she wasn't one who could judge. She was a slip of a girl, still in her teens, with a pretty face and too big a heart. People like her were a rare commodity nowadays. People like her were already dead.

...

It was winter now. Beth had decided to stay near the dilapidated, lake-front shop where she had found her crossbow. She had dragged the twice dead body off into the woods after the second night she camped in the utility closet. The area was isolated, she could easily get out the back without attracting attention, and with the exception of the occasion hoard that came through, there weren't too many walkers. It also helped that it had a well, getting its water supply from the lake she'd venture to guess, and the wooded area and lake supplied her with a decent amount of food assuming she had a good day.

She gathered from the climate that she was further south than where the prison was located. While there wasn't a lot of snow to be concerned with, the freezing rain kept temperatures below freezing, or close to, a good portion of the time.

The store had a few odds and ends, but carried no clothes or blankets, so Beth had ventured out for those; finding them in the few abandoned vehicles along the road or trading food for cloth. She wasn't as warm and comfortable as she had been in the prison, as ironic as that may have been, but she wasn't going to freeze to death.

As she sat, huddled in her three sizes too big down coat, wrapped in a tattered blanket she had traded for a small rabbit she'd caught, Beth surmised how utterly lonely she was. It had been days since she'd seen a living soul and walkers weren't her type of company. Burying her face in her knees, she allowed a silent sob to wrack her body, and she began to second guess herself. Maybe she should have gone with the last group that had passed through? Maybe that Terminus place wasn't too good to be true? Maybe she should follow the tracks herself?

Then she thought of Maggie and Daryl. What would Daryl have done?

She wiped the tears from her face, smiling a bit as his gruff, southern accent enveloped her, _"Ain't no sanctuary nowhere. Somethin' sounds too good t'be true, you bet yer' ass it is. You think shackin' up with a bunch'a strangers sounds like ah' good idea, then yer' more a silly lil' girl than I'da thought."_

Daryl would stay in a safe place until the weather warmed up. He would stay here, where there was food, water, and a relatively safe place to sleep. She wasn't sure if Daryl would have went with any of the groups that had passed by, but he'd always told her to trust her instincts, and her instincts told her that those groups would get her killed.

So she'd trust her decisions, trust everything she had managed to soak up from Daryl, and she would move on in a month or two, when the weather was warmer. She would find a group that she could fit into, that wouldn't drag her down, and she would keep looking for Maggie, Glenn, Rick and his group, and for Daryl. After all, she would do anything for the ones she loved.

**A/N: **Reviews keep me writing! XOXO


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you** Nicole137137 for yet another edit!

...

Beth stalked cautiously through the woods behind her 'home.' She had originally come to check a few of her snares, using a technique Daryl had shown her that he and Rick had found to work the best, but the sound of voices put her on edge. Walkers didn't talk. _People_ talked. Beth had learned to fear people more than walkers.

Winter had been harsh. She now had blood on her hands. Other people's blood. She had been ambushed by two men while out on run looking for warmer clothes. She had had her crossbow; they only had a knife and a lead pipe. She could _feel_ their evil intent rolling off of them and Beth knew. She _knew_ that it was going to come down to her life or theirs. She was alone, had no one to back her up, and there were two of them. She remembered closing her eyes for a brief moment, praying to God that this was a nightmare, but when she opened them and the men were still there…she let her bolt fly. It landed cleanly in the man's eye socket, ending his life instantly. The second man had managed a few swipes at her stomach, her otherwise unblemished skin now sporting a few scars, but Beth was quicker on her feet.

She had stabbed in the stomach, hoping to wound him enough that she could get away. By the amount of blood that spilled from the wound and escaped past his lips, Beth knew she had punctured a lung. The man would drown on his own blood. She apologized, tears trailing down her face as she sobbed over the man who would have done heaven knows what to her, but she begged for his forgiveness regardless. When his breath came in gasps, gurgling on the red fluid, Beth closed her eyes and fired a bolt to make sure he would never become a walker.

The freezing rain had hardened Beth's heart. She had been irrevocably damaged under the foggy breath of winter.

Forcing the thoughts of her last encounter away, she padded quietly across the leaves. She wasn't as stealthy as Daryl, but she would bet that she sure as hell could give him a run for his money now. Months of being on her own had made her quit the proficient hunter. She had learned most through trial and error, but her weeks with Daryl's teachings certainly hadn't hindered her.

Lifting her crossbow, bolt nocked and ready, Beth felt confident in her aim. She was now able to nock her crossbow while only feeling a little resistance. She had strengthened her arms, increased her endurance, and when she aimed, her bolt sailed true to the mark. She was proud of her progress. Proud that she now considered herself someone who could survive. She would never rank herself up there with Michonne or Maggie, she was still too soft hearted, but she had proven to herself that she could make it. She could _survive_.

"Ain't much, but it'll fill me enough and ain't had t'do shit to work for it." A tall man, holding a compound bow, with oily, chin length, brown hair smirked as he began loosening the noose around the small squirrel's neck.

Beth grit her teeth. That was _her_ squirrel. She had her sights set on the man's temple. She could pull the trigger and pin his brains to the tree he was standing next to, but then what would she do with the second man? He was much shorter and _healthier_ than his companion, but he had a gun. By the time she had another both nocked the second man would have had the chance to shoot her.

Her decision to stay hidden was ripped away when a couple of walkers stumbled up behind her, drawn in by the two stranger's conversation. Unsheathing her knife, she stabbed the first walker in forehead, the extreme decomposition allowed the knife to slide in past the hilt. Her fingers tried to pry the knife from its skull, but the fluids and brain matter made it impossible to get a grip on the hilt.

She had no choice but to back up, exposing herself to the men behind her. Firing a bolt through the face of a second walker, Beth took a few steps back into the clearing as the third walker closed in on her. Having lost her knife, and not having enough time to nock another bolt, Beth wrenched a bolt free from the mounted quiver. She lunged forward and forced the projectile through the bottom of the third walker's jaw; the point of the bolt protruding through the top of it's head.

"Well I'll be damned. Got ourselves a woman who can defend 'erself," the taller man sauntered toward her.

Rather than replying, Beth turned and extended her hand toward him palm up, expecting him to understand.

"You wanna' hold hands or somethin'?" His voice expressing his ego.

"The squirrel," Beth sighed, bending her fingers in a gesture for him to hand over the animal.

"Now see here. We found this squirrel fair n' square. Whadn't nobody here t'claim it," the man with the gun said as he stepped forward.

"Dan's right. We found this here squirrel all on our own. You stakin' a prior claim little missy?"

The man with the compound bow leered at her.

"As'ah matter of fact I am. Unless you're dimwitted enough to think that trap set itself," Beth replied, not allowing the panic she was beginning to feel to appear within her voice.

The tension was suffocating.

Beth's eyes flickered between the men, formulating a plan as to which one to take out first. While the answer should have been obvious, the man with the gun, it was the taller man holding the compound bow that seemed much more lethal. Problem was, her knife was still stuck in the mush of skull behind her and she needed to reload her crossbow.

"Alright," the taller man said tossing the squirrel at her feet.

"But Len-"

"Shut yer' mouth Dan. You should know better'n to disagree with a pretty lady. Especially one as well..._manicured_ as dis'n," Len smirked as he tossed Beth the squirrel.

"Thanks," Beth tried to sound indifferent. Her fists were clenched as tight as possible to keep herself from shaking.

She reached down and picked up the squirrel, giving both men a once over before she turned on her heel and approached the fallen walker holding her knife captive. Wiping her hand on her jeans, she grabbed the hilt and braced her foot against the corpse's throat. Giving a firm yank, she freed her knife, along with some of the walker's brain matter. Refusing to cringe, knowing both men were still watching her, she gave her wrist a hard flick and freed the blade from the remains. Sheathing her knife and jerking free her bolt she used to execute the second walker, Beth stood her crossbow up on the ground. She placed her foot in the cocking stirrup and smoothly nocked the stained bolt.

Stepping back into the clearing to retrieve her second bolt, and having every intention of going for a walk to lead the men astray from her temporary residence thereafter, Beth was caught a bit off-guard by the man's, Len's, request.

"Why don't cha' come with us?"

Beth secured her second bolt onto the built-in mount before mustering the most neutral face possible, "Me? Come with the two of you? You think I'm stupid?"

"What're you tryin' t'say?" Dan stepped forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Len.

"I think blondie insinuatin' that we're gonna' do somethin' bad t'her. Leave her body on the side of the road to feed the walkers," Len crossed his arms as if to seem offended.

"There are worse things people do now than killin' someone," Beth replied honestly. She had seen things while being alone. She kept to herself, kept hidden, but that didn't mean others did the same. She couldn't count the number of times she had so badly wanted to help someone, but knew doing so was the same as committing suicide. She'd already been down that road once and was never stepping foot there again. Beth wanted to live. She _had_ to live.

"Ya' know Dan. She raises a valid point. She's smart t'be wary. Lots of bad people out there," Len tried a different approach.

"I can tell an ally cat when I see one," Beth retorted.

Len pointed a knife toward Beth with a smile on his face. It wasn't supposed to come across as threatening, more so of using the blade to simply point at her, but it put Beth on edge regardless, "I like you. You'd fit in _real_ good with us. We got ourselves a group. Could keep ya' safe, keep ya' fed, so long as you abide by our code. Might even find yer'self some...special company there. I'm assumin' yer' alone. How long you been goin' at it?"

Beth knew they'd see through her lie, if she claimed to have a group elsewhere. No one in their right mind would send a girl like her out alone. Beth tightened her grip on her crossbow, ready to aim and pull the trigger the second she felt she was in real danger.

"Few weeks before winter."

"Hot _damn_!" Len's astonishment seemed genuine, as did his friend's, "You mean t'tell me…a beautiful creature like you…been out here roughin' it…_alone_? For nearly three months? I am fuckin' _impressed_."

In any other circumstance, Beth might have blushed, but her adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she was watching every move the two men in front of her made.

"Ya' know. You kinda remind me of someone. What d'ya think Dan? She remind you of anyone?"

"What you goin' on 'bout Len?"

Beth was no longer interested in what the two men had to say. She wanted to get away from them and she wanted them away from her home.

"I enjoyed the company, but I got things t'attend to. Wish you two the best of luck gettin' back to your group safely," Beth gave a small smile and used every fiber of strength in her being to confidently turn around and begin walking eastward to check her other snares.

"If yer' ever lookin' for comfort on a cold night, we're camped none too far from here. We're real _easy_ to find," Beth ignored Len's innuendo and the fact that he sounded so sure she would come looking for them.

"Who she remind ya' of Len?" Dan questioned again.

"That jackass redneck Joe took in. Daryl. Bastard uses a crossbow just like her. She uses snares like 'em too. Even has the same sort'a chip on 'er shoulder," Len said in an afterthought.

Beth's entire body froze. There weren't too many people left in the world so the odds of this Daryl being a Daryl different from hers were slim to none. Her Daryl was an unapproachable redneck, who carried a crossbow, and had taught her how to catch small animals with a hanging-noose-style snare. The snares weren't as much a defining trait as the other three, but she didn't care.

"Somethin' the matter sweetheart?" Len's voice poisoned Beth's bubble of hope.

Beth glanced over her shoulder, "Not at all," and kept walking.

She circled around, making it appear like she was surveying her surroundings, all the while keeping the two men barely within sight. When they began walking to the road, she hung back in the woods to see which direction they took.

As soon as it was safe, Beth rushed back to the four walls that kept her possessions safe. Jamming everything important into her now worn backpack, Beth felt hot tears prick her eyes. She wasn't going to be alone anymore. She had found Daryl, or she would as soon as she tracked the men to their camp, and everything was going to be _okay_.

Wiping her face, tears refusing to dry, Beth's lips quivered in a smile. She hadn't felt herself really smile in…she couldn't even remember. She left her non-essentials, with the hope that she would be back with Daryl, and she could organize everything better when her heart and mind weren't so erratic.

Pulling on her backpack, making sure her knife and crossbow were secure, Beth exited out of the back door to use the woods for cover. She wanted to race down the road and throw caution to the wind, but she had learned better than to do that. She had to make sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that this Daryl was _her_ Daryl. Even though she already knew it was him, she had also met two of the men he'd been running with. She wasn't naïve enough to think Daryl was incapable of getting himself in tough situations.

Finally on her way, her last thought came with another smile.  
_  
I'm coming Daryl._

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are lovely! XOXO


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you** Nicole137137 for editing this chapter! XOXO

...

Beth had no trouble finding the group's camp. They practically announced their presence to the world. They had a section marked off with barbed wire fence, wrapped around trees in a square-like fashion, to keep the walkers at bay. Apparently they thought themselves to be the more dangerous or they just weren't scared of anyone else. Groups usually tried to stay hidden, stay quiet, and stay away from others. Never attracting attention unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Groups like the one Len was a part of were the ones she steered clear of and somewhere in that camp was Daryl.

She'd been crouched in the thicket several yards from their camp, hiding her backpack farther back in case she needed to run, as she held onto her crossbow like it was her lifeline. She'd been observing them for a good half hour, figuring out who was in charge and what weapons each of them had. They were well armed and well organized for a band of thugs.

There were a few piles of walkers; apparently their presence had attracted their attention, which explained why she hadn't seen a walker in over a week until earlier today. For the most part though, they didn't seem too hostile; most of them laid up on bedding. One detail that didn't escape her was that their group consisted only of men. Not a single woman in sight. No _Daryl_ in sight for that matter.

The sound of a twig snapping to her left caught her attention and she had her crossbow drawn on instinct. A familiar figure, tall, shaggy hair, with bow in hand stood before her.

"Well whatta' we got here? Tha' lil' princess from earlier. Now how did I know you were gonna' end up scoping out our camp? Hmm?"

Beth didn't reply. Instead, knowing the group was on to her, she lifted her chin and rose from behind the bush. Her crossbow steady, aimed at Len's head, while he lowered his bow.

"What's goin' on Len?" Another man exited the barbed security of their camp to investigate.

Beth risked a glance. It was the older man, wearing a vest, and sporting peppered hair.

"Caught ourselves a sneak," Len answered.

"A sneak you say? Well, now ain't you somethin'. What're you doin' here sweetness? Come looking for some company? Or looking to rob us blind?" The man questioned with a smile.

Beth took a small step to her left, angling her body to split the difference between the space where Len and the other man stood.

"She's a live one Joe. Saw her take out three walkers by her lonesome. Even caught herself a squirrel in a snare," Len seemed to enjoy bragging for Beth. Putting her on display so they could indulge themselves in the trophy later.

"That so? How long-" Joe's question was interrupted by a group coming back from a run, "Ah, boys. Make a good haul?"

"Yeah. Found some stuff," a low, gruff, wonderfully familiar voice replied.

Joe blocked him from her vision, but Beth's heart had melted in pure joy. She could tell that voice anywhere.

"What's goin' on?"

"Got ourselves someone tryin' to sneak up on us," Joe casually stated as he took a step to the right, revealing Beth to the group.

Piercing blue eyes met hers and Beth's head felt light.

"I'll be a sum'bitch," he whispered before he was charging towards her, knocking her crossbow out of the way.

Beth had lost all her strength the moment she had seen Daryl, so his brash lack of regard for her weapon had been a blessing. She wasn't sure she would have been able to hold it up much longer anyway. Thus she let it fall, dropping it to the ground to allow her hands the freedom to clench onto Daryl's vest. She wanted to hug him. To bury her face in his warmth and cry happy tears, but their audience didn't deserve to witness such an intimate exchange and she couldn't risk looking like prey, more so than she already did.

Daryl's hands held her face, his palms softly cupping her cheeks; a gesture so delicate it made Beth smile. His eyes began searching her features, as if making sure she was really standing before him, and Beth did the same. His hair was a bit shaggier, but not too much longer. He looked tired, haggard, but very much alive. She was so swept up in her assessment of him that his voice made her jump when he spoke.

"_Claimed_."

Beth was confused. Claimed? What was claimed?

"Fuck that! I found 'er first. Lured'er over here. You can't just come struttin' up here layin' claim to things like you own tha' place," Len's face turned red.

"You bes' watch yer' mouth. You know the rules jus' the same. Someone says 'claimed' then it's theirs," Daryl released her to meet Len, standing toe-to-toe.

"Now, now boys. There's a simple solution to this," Joe began, placing a hand of each man's shoulder, "What's yer' name sweetness?"

Beth looked to Daryl, not sure whether she should reply or just keep quiet.

"It's Beth," Daryl's voice was strained.

"Beth is it?" Joe spoke to Beth once more.

"Beth," she reiterated.

"Well now Beth. I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be completely honest with me. Can you do that?" Joe implored.

Beth Greene from her daddy's farm would have said 'yes sir.' Beth from the prison would likely have nodded politely, but she wasn't either one of those people anymore. She had fought and survived and had just as much reason to be confident in herself as these men. She wasn't going to let herself be intimidated.

"That all depends on what ya' ask me," Beth replied evenly.

She caught Daryl's smirk out of her peripheral.

"Well, I guess that's fair enough," Joe nodded and released Daryl and Len to stand in front of Beth, "When you ran into Len earlier, did he ever mention the word 'claimed' to you?"

Beth's mind began working, connecting the dots of what claimed meant to these men, and decided that honesty was viable, "He did."

Daryl's head whipped around to Beth, his features cool, while his eyes looked wild.

"He asked me if I had a prior claim to tha' squirrel he was stealing from me. I politely pointed out that a trap wasn't able to set itself," Beth spared a glance in Daryl's direction. His chin was resting against his chest and he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So he never "claimed" you," Joe used his first two fingers to display quotation marks in the air.

Beth wanted to immediately spit out that she wasn't property to be _claimed_ by anyone, but thought better of it knowing that Daryl would only have done so if he was trying to protect her, "No."

"Well there ya' have it. Daryl's laid his claim. She's off limits to everyone else. Unless of course…" Joe paused, patting Daryl on the shoulder a few more times, "Daryl decides to share."

Joe's derogatory comment made Beth ill. What the hell was Daryl _doing_ with these people?

"Come'on Len. Let's give Daryl and his Beth some space. Seems like the two of 'em know each other," Joe commented, wrapping his arm around Len's shoulders and pulled him back to camp.

When the two men were a decent ways away, Daryl looked Beth over, "Not here."

Beth nodded, understanding that Daryl wanted to discuss things in private. She couldn't have been happier to agree.

"Wait here. Gonna' grab my shit," Daryl mumbled as he turned and stalked back within the barbed wire fence.

Beth bent down and picked up her crossbow, slinging it over her back when she heard Joe yell to Daryl.

"You leavin' us?"

"We're gonna' get some privacy," Daryl tossed over his shoulder. He then nodded for Beth to start walking and the two of them left, ignoring the grotesque remarks and catcalls made behind them.

Beth led the way. She headed straight for her abandoned backpack, hidden from view under a pile of leaves.

"Just in case," Beth felt the need to explain.

"Yeah. Smart," Daryl replied.

And then they began walking again. Beth kept to the woods, retracing the same path she had taken to Daryl's camp. They traveled in silence, leaving Beth to churn over all the things she had been wanting to say the past few months they had been separated.

When they finally reached Beth's store, a smile spread across her face. She had never been so relieved to return to her ramshackle building as she was in that moment. Beth made a quick sweep as she did every time she returned after being gone more than a few hours while Daryl followed close behind. With everything in order, she led him back to the utility closet, pulled a set of keys out of her pocket, and opened the door.

"This yer' place?" Daryl asked, glancing around at her belongings.

"Yeah. Found a key to this room when I busted open the cash register. It's kept me safe all winter," Beth replied, patting the wall with a smile, and then bent down to rummage through her backpack.

"All winter?" Daryl murmured quietly, fumbling with his flip top lighter.

Beth hesitated, hand grasping the tarp within her bag, as she felt the weight of Daryl's question, "Yeah. All winter."

Daryl nodded. Beth knew he wanted to say more, but she didn't press it. She was just happy to not be alone anymore. What happened was _not_ Daryl's fault and yet she knew he was blaming himself for the fact that it had happened.

Daryl dropped his pack to the ground and Beth tensed at the sound. She hadn't been looking at him, thus the noise had caught her by surprise. Generally hearing a loud 'thump' meant a walker was trying to get in or people were checking out her place. She felt silly, but Beth had been alone a good while. In actuality it had only been a few months, but in the apocalypse, that translated to years.

Having emptied the extras out of her tattered, olive colored backpack, Beth wasn't sure what to do next. When had she become so socially awkward? Granted Daryl wasn't the easiest company to keep, but she had never had a problem filling their silence.

She could hear him digging around the things she stored on her shelves. The windowless, metal door made her utility closet less appealing to looters, but it wouldn't stop someone from busting the doorknob if they _really_ wanted to know what was on the other side. Still, it gave her a bit of privacy and a place to keep her stuff.

"You been 'lone this whole time?" Daryl's inquiry pulsed throughout the small room.

"Yeah," Beth answered, glancing over her shoulder at him, "How long you been with that group?"

The muscle in Daryl's jaw jumped. He placed the tin can of corn he'd been looking out down with more force than necessary, "Since ah' day or two after…"

Beth didn't need him to finish his sentence. She knew which _after_ he was referring to, "That long, huh?"

"Yeah," his voice harsh, "Found me sitting in the middle'ah the road."

"Why were you sitting in the middle of tha' road?" Beth couldn't help the incredulous tone that crept into her voice as a small smile graced her lips.

"I's tired. Ran all night after some damned black car. Came to ah' crossroads. Whadn't sure which way t'go. Thought maybe if I sat there long 'nough it'd come back through. Not many cars 'round anymore," Daryl cast his eyes over her from under his shaggy bangs.

"Oh," Beth couldn't help but say, having a momentary flashback to the kitchen table of the mortuary, "Well, I'm glad you weren't alone."

"Don't," Daryl sounded stern.

"Don't what?" Beth asked, standing and turning to fully face him.

"Don't gimme' that shit. Don't sit there an' tell me yer' glad I whadn't alone when you've been by yer'self this whole _fucking_ time," Daryl's voice rose as he stepped toward her.

"Daryl. It wasn't your fault! The walkers bombarded us. There were _so_ many walkers. You saved me. There was no way I could've outran them with my ankle and we couldn't take all of them on," Beth tried to comfort him with her words.

"I saved you? I _saved_ you? Ya' got kidnapped! How tha' hell is that _saving_ ya'?" Daryl threw his arms into the air.

"You didn't know that some crazy man was going to come driving up, knock me out with whatever he had in that syringe, and toss me in tha' trunk. It was my fault. I should've hid the moment I heard tha' car, but I didn't," Beth explained, reaching out to gently place a hand on his sleeve.

"He shot you up with somethin'?" Daryl's face looked aghast.

"Daryl. I'm fine," Beth answered.

Daryl yanked his arm free, "You ain't _fine_ Beth. You should'a never had to gone through none'ah that."

Unperturbed by Daryl's outburst, knowing he was only cross with himself and lashing out at her, Beth approached Daryl once more. He wasn't facing her, the distinctive glow of the weathered wings splayed across his back made Beth feel more at peace than she had in months, and she wanted to give him the same.

Slowing moving to stand in front of him, Beth made no move to draw his attention. Instead, she stood there, further examining his features, now that it was safe from the scrutiny of spectators. With his was bowed, hair covering his eyes, she could see the flickering of his crystal blue orbs peeking at her ever so often. His large, strong hands, still occupied with his lighter, were littered with scars and his days in the world had left them calloused. Beth's hands looked much the same now.

She waited. She knew Daryl was waging some internal war with himself and would give him space, but she was _not_ going to let him continue to blame himself for something neither one of them had any control over. She wasn't dead. If anything, her separation had been the best thing that could have happened to her. She wished it hadn't happened to spare him the guilt he was feeling, but she had grown, learned, and was surviving this apocalyptic world. He had given her the tools, teaching her the basics of what he knew, and she had taken those lessons and flourished. She wasn't sure she could have done the same if she had stuck with Daryl. He may have acted like he didn't care, but she knew he would die before he let anything happen to her, much the same as she would for him, and that would do neither of them any good.

"You kill 'em?" Daryl's voice was raspy, coming out barely above a whisper.

"No," Beth was honest.

Daryl heaved a sigh, flaring his nostrils, and jerking his head to the side. Her answer apparently hadn't pleased him.

"I strangled him with my belt until he passed out. Then I took his car and drove 'n the direction that I thought would bring me back to you. When it ran out of gas, I slashed the tires for good measure, and trusted my instincts. Must'a made the right choices because here we are," Beth smiled.

Daryl was still staring off, but his expression softened and a faint smirk teased his lips. Feeling bold, Beth reached up and used her hands to gently guide Daryl's attention to her face. Keeping her hands against the stubble of his beard, caressing the soft skin she felt between the growth, Beth's smiled widened.

When he didn't shy away, Beth gently used her hands to rearrange his fringe out of his eyes, replacing her hands against his cheeks when she was satisfied that she could see more of his face, "I'm glad you're safe."

Daryl's eyes fluttered closed and the tension in his body evaporated as he exhaled.

"I knew you'd made it out of there. So I looked for you," Beth's voice didn't waver.

Daryl sucked in a breath, "I didn't…I whadn't sure…I'd hoped, but…"

"I know. It's okay. I didn't exactly give anyone much reason t'think I'd make it on my own," her hands dropped from his face to grasp his hands, feeling the warm metal of his lighter within her right, while lacing her fingers through his with her left.

When Beth looked up from their hands, Daryl's eyes were boring into her, "What?"

"Nothin'," he replied in more of a grunt.

Beth smiled again, "I missed you."

She couldn't seem to stop smiling now. Everything in her world, as sick and twisted as it was for anyone still left in it, was right now that she had found Daryl. A weight that had been on her heart was gone and all that was left was the feeling of immense happiness.

"Missed you too," Daryl mumbled, letting go of her hands and turning to sift through his pack. Beth understood this to be Daryl's way of politely ending their 'touching reunion.'

"So?" She began, accepting Daryl's not so subtle transition, changing the topic, "What happens next?"

Daryl squatted down in front of his black duffle bag, pulling out a bottle of water, "I'on know. Think'n we should head out, jus' the two of us."

"I think that would be wise. I do have an interest in my self-preservation. N' it'd be nice to keep my virginity intact til I'm willin' to give it away," Beth mentioned as an afterthought.

"God damnit Beth. I don' need t'know that shit," Daryl was red in the face, refusing to meet her eyes.

But Beth knew that he _did_ need to know. It was her clever way of informing him she hadn't been assaulted in any fashion by her kidnapper, or anyone else for that matter, while she was alone. She could tell Daryl had wanted to ask, especially after hearing she'd been drugged when she was taken, but she wasn't sure if he was trying to be polite for her sake or if he didn't want to know the answer to that question himself.

"Well forgive me. If you recall, before our brief departure, I was hangin' out with this guy. Real rough 'round the edges but had'a heart of gold. He didn't really have a filter though. Kinda rubbed off on me. Guess it's contagious," Beth teased.

"Smart ass. An' if I'da had a heart a'gold, I'd been a rich sum'bitch before the world went to shit. Both us know I whadn't," Daryl replied coarsely, but Beth could hear the amusement in his voice.

"And who says I was talkin' about you?" Beth put her hands on her hips in mock offense to his assumption. The look Daryl gave her said he wasn't stupid and Beth dissolved into laughter. When had been the last time she laughed? It felt ridiculously good. Like she was on something; or what she assumed being 'on something' would feel like.

"You done?" Daryl asked trying to sound annoyed.

"Yeah, yeah," Beth waved a hand in front on her face, "Seriously though, I want to thank you."

"Thank me? Fer' what?" Daryl stood, taking a sip of water.

"For teachin' me everything you did. I survived because I went by the things you'd showed me or when I wasn't sure 'bout something', I'd try to think of what you'd do. There weren't any guns, but I've gotten' decent with a crossbow. I wouldn't have even considered using one if you hadn't shown me how. If you hadn't forced me to watch your boring maintenance when you cleaned it or how to sight it in without a scope, I can't say for sure I'd still be here to have this conversation with you. So thank you, for everything," Beth tried to express her gratitude through her words. She was much more the affectionate type, giving big hugs when she wanted to show her appreciation, but Daryl wasn't a teddy bear and wouldn't care for being treated as such.

He stood there, quiet, watching her. As the silence grew, Beth felt herself wanting to fidget. His stare was so intense it felt like he was going to burn her if she stayed under it much longer.

"Anyway," Beth cleared her throat, "So if we're gonna' go, I think we need to do so soon. You're group didn't seem tha' type that would be okay with us jus' waltzing away." With that, his gaze on her eased and Beth felt like she could breath again.

"Yeah. They're trackin' some guy. Said he killed one of their own. Let 'em turn an' then took off while they dealt with the walker. Not sure what they're plannin', but I know it ain't good. Had already decided t'leave 'fore things got bad," Daryl explained.

"They sound wonderful," Beth exaggerated.

"Yeah. Real pick'ah tha' litter," Daryl agreed.

"Alright, well let's get t'packin'. The sooner we put distance between us and them, the better," Beth began pulling items off the shelf that they would need.

"Yeah," Daryl concurred following suit.

They worked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Beth hadn't gathered a vast amount, as there wasn't much left to acquire, but they couldn't take everything. Food and water were top priority. The few medical supplies she'd found in the first aid kit of a car were next, followed by a blanket for bedding. The larger blankets and coats would have to be left behind. The weather was warmer now and they didn't have the room or could risk the hindrance of lugging around comforters. Daryl had told her he had a couple of things they could use for security when it came time to making camp, and Beth reasoned that they could add to it with the cans they'd empty after they ate. Packing the last few odds and ends, Beth was suddenly sad to say goodbye to her store.

"It wasn't much, but I'd made it home," She said softly when Daryl gave her a questioning look.

"I hear ya'," Daryl nodded, joining her in giving the place a last once-over.

Tugging her backpack up higher on her shoulder, Beth adjusted her crossbow and signaled to Daryl that she was done. As she opened the door, cautiously looking around to make sure there weren't any walkers, Daryl's voice made her pause.

"Hey Beth?"

"Yeah?" She asked, turning to give him her attention.

"You were right," he didn't elaborate.

"Mmm. Usually am," she said with a smile while opening the door to exit the utility closet, "but you care t'specify what about?"

"What'cha said on the porch that one night," Daryl stated, walking just outside of the door and checking the place once more, out of habit more than distrust of Beth's ability.

Beth stood beside him with a puzzled expression. She knew he meant the night she had drank for the first time, but the conversations they'd had all bled together in a drunken haze.

"Was a lot more than I'da ever imagined," he hinted, walking on ahead of her towards the front of the store.

She was going to stop him, tell him they needed to go out of the back, just to be safe. The front was too open. Too exposed. If anyone was out there, they'd have no place to hide, but her words died in her throat when she realized which statement she'd made that he was referring to. Her eyes widened before squinting at the corners from the giant smile that enveloped her features.  
_  
"You're gonna' miss me so much when I'm gone Daryl Dixon."_

Everything was right in the world. She'd found Daryl.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you** Nicole137137 for another wondering chapter edit!

**Update: 5-23-14** I had a review point out that my timeline with the rabbit incident didnt' fit my universe. Thank you grouchtomato! I made some small adjustments and fixed the plot hole!

...

Beth was happy. _Too_ happy. She should have known that something bad was about to happen. It always worked that way in this new world. First the farm, then the prison, her making a connection with Daryl and having him help her learn how to fend for herself only to be kidnapped, and now this.

Daryl stood frozen in the front entryway. She theorized that had it been a herd of walkers, he would have dashed back in with a few choice words and dragged her back into the utility closet. Therefore, the only other explanation possible was a group of people.

Daryl hadn't raised his crossbow; instead he kept it where he'd been holding it in front of him, so Beth deduced that it was probably someone from the group he was with. Since there were only two people aware of the exact location of her 'residence,' Len and Dan, she assumed one of the two had come to check-in on Daryl. They could have given someone directions, it wasn't hard to explain that she was most likely staying at the sporting goods store a little ways down the road, but she knew with how interested Len had been that he'd most likely made a personal trip.

Not waiting around to see what Daryl was going to do; Beth bent down and snuck behind one of the empty aisles. She padded softly to the end of the aisle; peeking through the holes of the pegboard paneling. She praised herself for having the foresight to arrange the shelves to hide the back exit from the sight of someone entering through the front door, as the doors were directly across from one another.

She could see Len, compound bow in hand, and it looked like there were two, possibly three, people with him. As quietly as she could, she brought her crossbow around, and walked to the back door. As soon as she slipped outside, she scanned her immediate surroundings. Thankful no one had come around the back, Beth ripped off her crossbow and nocked a bolt, berating herself for being so careless. Just because Daryl was with her didn't mean the world was any less dangerous.

She ran around to the side of the building, glancing around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. With no one in sight, Beth rounded the corner and stopped at the end of the wall, putting her within range of the conversation Len was having with Daryl.

"So where's little miss sunshine?" Len taunted.

The awkward position of her backpack was making it hard for Beth to lean back against the wall, therefore she had opted to lean against her side and point her loaded crossbow toward the sky. Beth took a deep, steadying breath. It was very likely that she would be adding a few more people to her _list_. Her stomach suddenly felt very nauseous.

"She ain't here. Went to check 'er traps," Daryl lied smoothly.

At least she had read him right. He hadn't wanted her anywhere near these guys. Except Beth didn't run and hide anymore. She couldn't if she wanted to survive. She didn't need to depend on Daryl to keep her safe. She'd been doing just that on her own for months now. She could help, she could pull her own weight, and she was determined to make sure nothing happened to him either. Not now. Not when they had just found each other. Not _ever_.

"You so much'ah pussy that you got tha' woman doin' all the work? Or she got you trained?" Len laughed, glancing back at his two comrades who had joined in, "If I had a piece'ah ass that looked like her, I'd prolly do whatever she said too."

Beth bit her lip, praying Daryl kept his cool. He had never been one that handled the disrespect of women well, which also made him a bit of a hypocrite. He hadn't always had the nicest mouth, recalling the times she'd heard him call Lori and Carol a "stupid bitch."

That seemed like a lifetime ago…

"What'cha want?" Daryl snapped.

"Just comin' to see what the two of you was doing? Or have you already done both of those things?" Len remarked, followed by another round of laughter.

The laughter suddenly stopped and Beth knew Daryl had raised his crossbow. Len seemed to have a personal grudge against Daryl, that, or he was just a jerk who liked to push people's buttons. Beth had a strong feeling it was the former. Daryl could be a pretty big jerk himself. Wasn't the easiest guy to get along with.

"Now, now. Ain't no reason to be point'n weapons at people. Good way t'get yer'self shot," Len's tone had turned into a more placating one, "Just wanted t'know when you were comin' back t'camp. We're packin' up. Joe tole' me to check on ya'. Tell ya' to wrap it up."

Beth didn't miss the overtone. They weren't giving Daryl a choice.

"Ain't plannin' on comin' back," Daryl's voice deep with an underlying threat.

"Well now, we got ourselves ah' problem. You decide to leave our group, ain't nothin' stoppin' me from havin' ole' Tony here put a bullet in yer' brain and passin' around that _fine_ lil' thang your tastin'," Len snickered.

Beth heard the fumbling of a gun being pulled from its holster and discerned it was time to make her presence known.

"Pull that gun out and your brains are gonna' decorate your friends shirt," Beth stated calmly as she stepped out from beside the building and aimed her crossbow at the one Len had indicated as Tony.

"Whoa there," Len uttered, putting both hands up in the air, "Let's not get carried away."

Beth stepped around behind the trio, standing directly across from Daryl. She could feel Daryl's eyes on her, along with the other three who were paying Daryl no mind now that she'd come into view, but she kept her focus on Tony's brow.

"Len?" The third man spoke up, causing Beth to glance his direction.

"Chill Harley. I seen 'er work. She means business," Len turned back to Daryl, "Why don' we all put our weapons down an' try and talk this out?"

Beth tightened her grip on her crossbow. She'd heard people say that to one another too many times to fall for it. She wasn't lowering her crossbow unless she had a bullet in the head that forced her to do so.

Harley, the older man with a beard, had also turned his attention back to Daryl, but Tony stayed focused on Beth. She surmised that he must not have liked the fact that she had the advantage. Before he'd be able to pull his gun, she'd have her bolt through his head.

Out of her peripheral she saw Daryl lower his crossbow and she lost her focus for a short moment; feeling crushed that Daryl had done as they'd asked. Hearing the cocking of a gun's hammer, Beth's adrenaline kicked into gear and she began functioning on impulse. Her attention snapped back to Tony who now had a revolver pointed at her head.

"Put tha' _fuckin'_ gun down," Daryl yelled.

"Not till this bitch puts her bow down," Tony yelled.

"Beth," Daryl's voice wavered.

"You heard your man. Put the bow down," Tony smiled.

"Fuck you," Beth hissed.

"_Beth_," Daryl repeated her name, raising his voice an octave.

"You got one shot sweetheart. I got six. I'll shoot your boyfriend and then you before you'd be able to reload," Tony sneered, waving his gun around.

"You'd be dead before you even got Daryl in your sights," Beth articulated coldly.

"God damnit Beth! Tony, get that fuckin' gun off 'er!" To those who didn't know Daryl, he would have sounded more irate than anxious, but Beth knew his rage was a mask for what he was actually feeling.

Beth's knuckles were white against the camouflage of her crossbow. Her body was so tense she was beginning to cramp in her arms and fingers. She was _not_ putting her crossbow down. She was _not_ going to die here today and neither was Daryl. All she could see was the black bandana resting across Tony's forehead. She had broken one of the rules she had lived by and zeroed out her surroundings.

When Beth's view was blocked by tan skin, flannel under a leather vest, and sharp blue eyes, she gasped. She immediately lowered her weapon and sucked in a considerable amount of oxygen. Her eyes darted between both of Daryl's before she realized what he'd just done, and then all Beth could feel was anger.

"Now, we're packin' up camp. You comin'?" Len asked as if Daryl had a choice.

"Yeah. We're comin'," Daryl replied, his eyes never leaving Beth.

"Well let's hit the road then. We're burnin' daylight," Len began walking down the road, followed by Harley and Tony.

Beth narrowed her eyes and grit her teeth. How she could hurdle from one extreme to the other on the emotion spectrometer, she didn't know, but she was the furthest thing from happy. Giving Daryl a once over, she spun on her heel, and began following behind their three visitors.

...

They'd been walking a while, Beth could hear Daryl crunching the road behind her, but she refused to look at him. The three in front of her had mostly kept their conversations to themselves, only getting loud enough for her to hear bits and pieces every once in a while.

"Told ya' she meant business," Len said loudly to the other two, turning to leer at her.

Beth wanted to roll her eyes. Of course she meant business. They were threatening hers and Daryl's life. Was their moral compass really so skewed that they thought all this to be some big joke?

Breaking her thoughts, a couple of walkers strolled out of the woods and Beth automatically pulled up her crossbow.

"Whoa whoa!" Beth looked behind her, expecting to see more walkers. Instead all she saw was Len waving away Harley and Tony's guns, "Why don't we let miss walker slayer take care of these guys?"

"_What_?" Daryl stepped up beside her, "You lost yer' damn mind?"

"There's only two of 'em. Saw her handle three of'em earlier," Len replied cheekily.

"Fer' what purpose," Daryl spat.

"Boys think I'm exageratin'. So I wanna' make sure it whadn't a fluke," Len said pointing his knife in the direction of the oncoming walkers, "Go'on now. Show 'em."

"No way," Daryl pulled up his crossbow and took aim.

"It's fine," Beth sighed. By no means did she want to do _anything_ these men asked, but it occurred to her that proving her crossbow wasn't just for looks and that she could contribute to the group and defend herself might increase the longevity of her life.

"This is stupid," Daryl's words were laced with venom, "What does killin' a couple walkers prove?" Beth didn't have to look to know that Daryl was striding toward Len, body taunt, and ready to fight.

She also knew that whatever this whole altercation was about went beyond Beth killing a couple of walkers. Killing wasn't anything to be proud of and killing two walkers was almost like riding a bike. If someone out there had only killed two walkers, _total_, that was some large feat, but handling two of them wasn't brag worthy if there ever was such a thing.

Drawing her crossbow, she concluded the first walker was about twenty-five yards from her; the second a few yards farther down from the first. Taking aim, Beth adjusted her grip, and pulled the trigger. The second walker crumbled to the ground unceremoniously. Shifting her crossbow over her back, she pulled out her knife and waited for the walker to reach her. When it finally got within reach, she used her unoccupied hand to keep the walker at bay, and stabbed her knife through what used to be an eye socket. She jerked her knife free, flicked her wrist to remove the black liquid, and sheathed the blade.

"Well now, ya' see," Len unrepentantly cheered and slapped Daryl on the shoulder a couple of times, "Girl can take care'ah herself."

Daryl shrugged Len off, "This ain't no game ya' dick," he groused as he marched toward Beth.

"Enjoy the show?" She didn't wait for him, instead going after her bolt. She made sure to keep her expression flat.

"What the hell is that s'posed to mean? And what _was_ that?" Daryl accent much more pronounced with his anger.

"_That_ was me being a 'shiny new toy' for your friend Len," Beth explained matter-of-factly.

"You done got dumb on me or somethin'?" Daryl wasn't happy. Beth _knew_ Daryl wasn't happy and he was only taking it out on her because he had no one else around he trusted, but she was just as frustrated with their situation as he was.

"That is _not_ fair," Beth barked, bending down and yanking her bolt free from the walker she'd slain.

"What'chu goin' on about fair for. Life ain't _fair_. Ain't fair ev'ryone done turned in'ta corpses and started tryin' to eat us. Ain't fair we been split up from our people. Lotta' things ain't fair. _Get over it_," Daryl had stepped into her space, pointing his finger, and trying to intimidate her.

"Screw. You. _You_ get over it. I'm tryin' to keep your ungrateful ass _alive_!" Beth mounted her bolt and slung her crossbow across her back.

"You keepin' me alive? That sum' kinda' joke 'er somethin'?" Daryl smirked, "Ain't no lil' girl like _you_ gonna' keep _me_ alive. I don't need no help. You jus' worry about yer'self."

"That so?" Beth looked him straight in the eyes, "Well I'll have you know-"

"Hey, you two 'bout done with yer' spat? We're pretty out 'n the open here," Len hollered across the road.

"We're done," Beth answered, her eyes never leaving Daryl's.

"Uh huh," Daryl grunted, jerking the back of his hand across his mouth.

Even though Beth knew Daryl wasn't really upset with her, she still felt the lashes his words left. She decided to get some space from Daryl, trailing behind, but made sure not to get too close to Len and the other two. Thus she found herself unhappily in the middle. She _really_ missed her utility closet.

...

Joe had taken Beth into their group without much fuss. It was made clear that she was a guest in their group, which meant Daryl's 'claim' remained intact. Beth wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was relieving in the fact that she knew Daryl, knew what he did was for her best interest, but in turn he was painting a bright red target on his back.

She'd spoke to Joe some as they traveled to one of the groups 'safe houses.' It was a shame he wasn't a nicer guy. He reminded her of Merle in that regard; looking out for his group but always putting himself first. Not like Daryl. Nothing like Daryl.

They'd made it to the safe house a few hours before the sun started to set. Beth had wanted a moment alone and had stayed outside while everyone went in to get settled for the night. They were catching whoever Joe was hell-bent on extracting some vengeance on and Beth hoped that the moment they caught him, it would give the two of them the opportunity to make an unnoticed getaway.

"Got us a spot on the floor," a raspy voice spoke from behind her.

"'Kay," Beth replied, looking out past the road.

Daryl came to stand beside her; fumbling with his hands, "I'm uh…" he cleared his throat, "'Bout earlier. What I said whadn't necessary."

"No. It wasn't," Beth countered.

"Was jus' frustrated we got forced in'ta this whole thing," he tried to explain.

"I know," Beth accepted.

"I know ya' got my back. Didn't mean nothin' by what I said," Daryl elaborated.

"Okay," Beth sighed.

"And 'bout back at the store-"

"I know we didn't have ah' choice," Beth finished for him.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, looking down at his hands.

"I've seen a'lotta stuff when I was out on my own. By now we've both learned that when someone asks you to put yer' weapon down, you don't do it. Not when you have a chance to get away. You could've taken out Harley, I would've had Tony, and between the two of us we could've handled Len. We could've gotten away," Beth explained calmly.

Daryl stayed silent for a moment. Beth could see him chewing on his bottom lip out of the corner of her eye. He was working something out to say in his head, as biting his lip seemed to be a nervous habit, but she knew he'd say whatever it was once he found the right words.

After a few more moments of silence, Daryl tilted his head toward her, "Ain't as easy ya' know. When they ain't walkers."

It was Beth's turn to look down at her hands. Her anger from earlier evaporated at his honesty. Licking her lips, throat suddenly dry, she said a quiet "I know."

"You think you know-"

She cut him off, rounding to face him, "I know Daryl."

Daryl held her gaze. Reaching up, he rubbed his hand over his chin, subtly using the action to look at anything else but Beth. Then he was staring at her again, "What happened?"

Beth let out a long sigh, shrugging her shoulders; her eyes lost focus in the memory. She forced them closed, squeezing them tightly, fisting her hands by her side and willing the images to go away. Shaking her head, she looked back up at him with a haunted expression, "It doesn't matter. I'm here. They're not."

Daryl seemed satisfied with her answer. For once she was grateful for his awkwardness. It meant that he wouldn't pry and he would let her be.

Beth could see Daryl fidgeting beside her. While he wasn't prying, she could tell he wasn't sure if he should leave and give her space or stand there giving her silent support. Beth honestly wasn't sure which she wanted either. She did know that Daryl's fidgeting was started to make her feel anxious. She didn't need a babysitter.

"Go'on back. I'll head in, in a few minutes," Beth made the decision for Daryl.

"You sure?" He grunted, gazing at her from under his shaggy hair.

"Yeah. I'm sure," Beth gave him a smile that reached her eyes.

He stood there a moment, as if absorbing the light from her smile, and Beth felt her smile falter. When it fell and he was still standing there, she wasn't sure what to do. It was like he could see right through her. She'd always considered herself a pretty open book, but she'd done well to amend that. Here, with Daryl, she wondered if maybe her scale of 'self-improvement' needed some adjusting.

Then he looked away and the moment was over. Beth exhaled softly, not quite able to make it completely inaudible, and thankful for the breath she was finally able to take. Daryl turned to head back inside, pausing mid-stride, to glance back at her. She observed how he worked his bottom lip between his teeth. Furrowing her brows, silently asking him to tell her what he wanted to say, Beth waited. Daryl shook his head, as if mentally shaking off his thoughts, and pulled open the metal door to the warehouse, leaving Beth alone and confused.

She wasn't sure how long she had been standing outside, after Daryl went back in, but the sound of an argument caught her attention. Pausing at the door, the voices no longer audible, Beth heard a thud and yanked open the door.

Len was on the ground while Tony, Harley, Dan, and Billy all kicked and beat him mercilessly. Her eyes widened at the blatant violence. She was confused as to why they were attacking one of their own so viciously and why Joe was letting it happen.

A firm hand grabbed her forearm and Beth's blood went cold. A balding man holding a syringe flooded her memories and she jerked her arm free. Looking up, she saw Daryl, obviously confused with his hand still extended where he had grabbed her.

"Sorry," Beth whispered, rubbing her forearm where Daryl's touch had burned her.

Daryl didn't respond. Instead, he reached down and grabbed her hand, tugging her along to follow him. He led them to where their stuff had been laid out. Risking a glance over her shoulder, Beth could see Len's bloody body sprawled out on the floor. He was no longer responding, and while the strikes kept landing, Beth knew Len had lived his last day.

Daryl pulled at her hand and Beth moved to lie across from him. Daryl had made sure to lie on the outside, shielding her view of Len's onslaught, while Beth faced him. Cupping her hands under her cheek, Beth positioned herself, and looked up to find Daryl watching her.

"What happened," she dared to whisper.

"Few months back we went huntin'. Found me a rabbit. Small one, but better'n nothin'. I was 'bout to pull the trigger and Len, stupid fuck, shot it from behind me. Said somethin' 'bout 'claimed' and demanded I hand it over. He said some shit, I pulled my knife, and Joe intervened," Daryl repositioned his head on his bent arm, moving a bit closer to Beth, "S'plained their code they go by. Said since I didn't know no better I got a pass. Hacked the rabbit in half and gave the other bit t'Len."

Beth nodded, letting him know she too had figured out this 'code' that Daryl referred to. In truth, she was more interested in the fact that Daryl was sharing so much so freely. This had been the most he'd said to her since their reunion. It reminded her of concrete walls, metal bars, and horrendously uncomfortable bunks. Beth missed all of those things more than she could ever express in words. She then snapped her thoughts back to focusing on Daryl's voice the moment he continued.

"Bastard never got over it. If I ventured ah' guess, I'd say my _claimin_' you earlier pushed him over the edge. He planted some of his shit in my bag. Said I stole it. Joe seen 'em though. Let Len dig his own hole and was testin' me t'see if I'd tell the truth," Daryl's low voice lulled her a bit.

"They did all that because he lied? Or because he was tryin' t'cause trouble with you?" Beth inquired.

"They don't take too kindly to liars," Daryl replied.

Beth let her eyes drop from Daryl's face, down his neck, and rest on the steady rise and fall of his chest, "You're not a liar," Beth whispered while reaching for one of his hands.

There was a brief pause and Beth was sure Daryl was smirking, but his voice, their long trip, and the harshness of the world they now lived in had caught up with her. Beth's eyes fluttered closed, calmed by the warmth of Daryl's hand, and felt herself drifting. A smile tugged her lips when she heard Daryl whisper.

"_No. I'm not."_

_..._

Beth awoke the next morning; stiff and achy from sleeping on the concrete floor. Daryl was still asleep beside her, one of his hands still holding hers, the other tucked under his head. The harsh lines of worry and exhaustion were visible and Beth decided she liked the way he looked while he slept.

She smiled a bit and took in his features; shaggy hair, long lashes coming from eyelids that currently concealed vibrant blue eyes, his nose was slightly off center, indicating he'd broken it, mole just above the scruffy mustache that grew into an even scruffier beard, and full lips. She deduced that he would be a lot more handsome if he didn't scowl all the time.

"S'rude to stare at people when they're tryin' t'sleep," Daryl's voice impossibly rougher from disuse.

"And it's rude t'sleep when you know you're 'guest' is awake," Beth countered, her own voice scratchy from sleep, "Good morning."

"What's so good about it?" Daryl huffed; eyes still closed.

"You woke up, didn't you?" Beth queried.

"Yer' somethin' else Greene," Daryl groused.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she accepted with a smile.

Rubbing his eyes and finally squinting them open, Daryl shifted away from her. Getting herself up, Beth did a quick headcount. Her stomach sank when her count came up one short both times. If Daryl noticed, he didn't say anything. Following suit of everyone else, they packed their bags.

"Today, my fellow roughians…and lady," Joe tossed Beth a wink, "Today, we'll catch up with that perverse excuse for a man that did in our Lou. If we travel hard all day, we should catch them by nightfall."

Beth was not looking forward to a long day of pushed paces and sacrificed caution in order to catch up to this man that Joe wanted to end so badly, but she knew that in doing so, she and Daryl would be rid of this group that much faster.

"As you can see, we lost one of our members; Len. He chose to _lie_ and try to deceive me so that it would be Daryl just over the railing instead of him. I have no room for liars in my guild. You'd _all_ do well to remember that," Joe finished.

Beth and Daryl exchanged a glance as they followed the group out of the warehouse. The sun blinded them when they stepped outside and Beth had to stop to let her sight adjust. Looking down she saw Len's body; bloodied and one of his own arrows protruding through an eye socket. It was gruesome and Beth felt a pang of sympathy at the pain Len must have felt as he died.

Daryl was moving beside her, grabbing a cream colored sheet and spreading it out to throw over the corpse, stopping mid-swing. He cast a glance a Beth. She knew why he was doing what he was doing. She had asked him to back at the golf club, but that was all _before_. It seemed like _everything_ was always _before_.

She had said it mattered then, and it had, but didn't matter anymore. She couldn't let things like this mean more. There was too much death and too much violence in the world for her to remain the way she had.

Answering his nonverbal question, Beth reached out and tugged at the long sleeve of his flannel shirt, nodding her head in the direction of the guys, who were already walking down the road. When Daryl dropped the sheet back down on the concrete platform and fell in step beside her, she hoped that he had recognized her growth as that of acceptance and not indifference.

Forcing her mind to forget what lay behind her, she instead focused on what lay ahead. By this time tomorrow, it would just be her and Daryl, like it was supposed to be. This time though, she would make sure they were never separated again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**A HUGE THANK YOU **to Nicole137137 for taking them time to edit each chapter! You did an amazing job and I sincerely appreciate your hard work!

...

They had been walking for hours. The sun had long since set and Joe had refused to stop since after noon. While Beth had become accustomed to a drifter lifestyle, her feet had started hurting hours ago. Daryl seemed to be feeling the exhaustion as well. Beth had noticed him adjust the strap of his crossbow at least five times in the past ten or so minutes.

"Look up ahead," Joe whispered to the group.

Beth rose up on her tiptoes, trying to see through the dark, over the taller men in front on her. She could see smoke rising in a steady stream ahead of them, but a broke down, blue Chevy Blazer blocked her view of their intended targets. Beth felt a sinking feeling in her gut. She knew that whoever these people were, they were the people Joe had been tracking. Joe motioned for everyone to encircle the small camp and the group began to spread out.

Beth felt a hand brush hers, looking beside her, Daryl nodded toward the direction they had come; indicating it was time for them to makes themselves scarce. Beth nodded and took a step around to see who Joe had finally encroached upon; curiosity getting the better of her. It took her only a moment to identify whose temple Joe's gun was resting against.

Beth turned and clawed at Daryl's sleeve, eyes wild, and heart frantic, "_Daryl_!"

"_What?_" Daryl whipped around at the panic in her voice.

"It's _Rick_!" She tried to keep her voice down.

"_Fuck_," Daryl swore, "Stay here."

Daryl made his way around the Blazer and Beth's heart picked up tenfold when she lost sight of him. She jogged up to the rear of the Blazer, peering around the opposite side, and caught Dan sneering into the passenger side window. Just past Dan stood Tony, pointing a gun at Michonne, her sword under his foot. She deduced that Carl must have been inside the Blazer; Dan now blocking his exit.

She heard Daryl interrupt Joe's counting, Harley trying to hurry things along, but Joe allowed Daryl his piece. Beth moved back to the other end of the Blazer, pulling her crossbow around and positioning Billy and Harley in her sights.

Daryl was telling Joe to let Rick and his group go. That they were good people. Beth's blood, firing through her veins, froze when Daryl dropped his crossbow and told Joe to spill his blood instead of theirs.

There was a pause. It was the longest pause Beth had ever felt in her entire eighteen years of life. Then Joe replied.

"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. See that right there i'…i'…is a lie," Joe stuttered.

Beth knew what was coming. Her thoughts raced back to Len. Yesterday he was alive. He had lied and tried to frame Daryl last night and when she awoke this morning, Len had been beat to death. She _knew_ what Joe's next words would be.

"It's a _lie_!" Billy and Harley disappeared from view and Beth heard them attack Daryl. "Teach him fella's. Teach him all the way," Joe's words rang through Beth's entire body.

A moment later, the two men threw Daryl against the side of the Blazer and Beth knew she had to do something. _Anything_. She had to help Daryl. She tore her crossbow off her back, dropping it and her backpack to the ground. Then she jumped into the fray, trying to pry Billy off of Daryl. She pulled at Billy's jacket, attempting to grasp his attention. Getting more than she bargained for, Billy slung his fist back at her, hitting her squarely on her left brow. She felt warm liquid beginning to spill around her eye and knew he had busted the skin under her eyebrow. However Beth kept fighting. She could hear Rick yelling, what sounded like a door opening and being slammed shut, but Beth couldn't worry about anything else right now. She couldn't take them all on by herself. She needed help. She needed _Daryl's_ help. Furthermore, Billy and Harley were the only two not pointing a weapon with the intention to shoot, as they kept throwing blows at Daryl.

Beth pulled at Harley's hair, trying to get the bigger man off of Daryl when he had pinned him to the ground. For this Beth got a kick to the stomach, launching her rearward. Gathering her wits about her, she scrambled back to her feet and rushed at Billy, when she heard a shot. She risked a glance to see both Rick and Michonne still alive. Turning her attention back to the two beating Daryl, she lept onto Billy's back, locking her arms around his neck in an attempt to strangle him. She was so much smaller than them, but she thought that if she could get in a position where they couldn't get her off, she might be able to help give Daryl an edge.

"Stupid bitch," Billy hissed.

Beth felt herself being walked backwards. She kept her hold, praying it was tight enough to suffocate Billy. Suddenly her world went white as she was thrust against the side of the broken down vehicle; her head hitting the glass while her back was thrust sharply against the metal body. Still she kept her hold. After the third jarring, Beth's head felt light and she had double vision. She thought she could hear Daryl yelling for her, but she wasn't sure. She also heard what she distinctly identified as a second gunshot, but she couldn't be sure of that either. When she was shoved a fourth time, her grip faltered and she released Billy. The man stumbled away from her, gasping for air, and Beth slid down the smooth metal supporting her. Her head throbbed and she barely recognized sliding to the ground, propped up against the Blazer.

She felt nauseous. She couldn't get the world to stop spinning and her ears were ringing as if a gun had been shot right beside her. She blinked, willing her eyes to focus, but that action alone took immense concentration. She heard a sound much louder than the noise vibrating in her ears, and Beth knew someone had been shot. They were all going to die. Her fight had been in vain. She had tried to help Daryl, but the guys were just too big, too strong, and she was still too _weak_.

She was angry, furious, livid, and then…she was just tired. She knew after Rick or Michonne, whoever had fallen first, the other would come next. She just prayed that they ended Carl quickly. He had been through enough in his young life. She and Daryl would follow. They would get the worst of it. Daryl would be beat to death, if he wasn't already, and Beth…she hoped she would have the chance to grab a gun and end her own life. What these men would do to her would be far worse than death.

With an unspoken apology on her lips, Beth's world went black.

...

She awoke to warmth. Feeling safe, whole even, it reminded her of waking up on her daddy's farm. Before she had stupidly tried to kill herself. Before she had met the group. _Before_ everything. She clung to those memories. Willing herself to stay in her cocoon for as long as possible because she knew when she opened her eyes, she would be living a nightmare. Her daddy would be dead, Maggie would be missing, Daryl would be a bloody pile somewhere, and she would be left to fend for herself against a group of lust driven miscreants.

A feather-light touch brushed across her forehead, barely grazing the cut on her brow, but enough to cause Beth to hiss involuntarily.

"Sorry," a rugged apology hummed softly into her ears.

Beth's eyes shot open and she begged the Lord up above that she wasn't dreaming. Her head pounded ruthlessly and her entire body felt like it was on fire, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the pair of blue eyes staring back at her, his arm around her shoulders in a clumsy embrace, and his heartbeat thrumming against her shoulder where she leaned against him.

"You're alive?" She couldn't believe her eyes.

Daryl smirked, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips, "Ain't nobody able t'kill a Dixon 'cept 'nother Dixon."

Beth closed her eyes, no longer caring if she was in a dream, and took a deep breath. She acknowledged his statement, knowing how sturdy Daryl was in this world, but decided against commenting on it. He was trying to make light of the atmosphere and Beth wasn't going to ruin it by pointing out that he was the _only_ Dixon; at least as far as she knew. Instead she changed the subject.

"Rick…Michonne…Carl?" She whispered each name.

"They're fine," he answered.

"Thank God," Beth sagged deeper against his side.

"I'on know 'bout all that. Rick pretty well saved us all. God had nothin' t'do with it," Daryl's voice sounded hollow.

It was then that Beth remembered she didn't actually _know_ what happened. She had passed out thinking everyone was going to die and fully expected to wake up to groping hands and derogatory comments about her person.

She wanted to ask what had happened, but the tone of Daryl's voice in his last statement was enough to keep the question behind her lips. Alternatively she assessed the damage to her body. Her back ached something fierce, her head throbbed, her ribs hurt every time she breathed, and her left eyebrow would definitely hide part of the scar that would later form.

"How long was I out?" Beth decided to ask in place of her _real_ question.

"Couple hours," Daryl drawled.

"Where's everyone else?" she glanced around not seeing anyone.

"Michonne's got Carl in tha' vehicle. Rick's 'round the other side," Daryl nodded his head in the direction Beth assumed was Rick's location.

"You been here the whole time?" Beth watched Daryl's profile.

"Didn't wanna' move ya' 'round too much. You hit yer' head pretty hard," Daryl avoided her question.

Beth caught Daryl clench his jaw, obviously uncomfortable with being in such close contact to another person, but his avoidance of her question reinforced her hypothesis. Daryl had stayed by her side since the moment he'd sat down by her and let her use him to sleep against. He had played protector while she slept. Now that she was awake, she knew she should sit herself up and free Daryl from his confines, but he was so warm. She felt safe. She wanted to feel safe just a little while longer.

"How ya' feelin'?" Daryl asked, looking down at her.

"I'm alive," Beth stated the obvious. She knew Daryl had taken much worse than she had last night and wasn't going to complain to him.

"S'good," he mumbled.

"You okay?" She questioned him.

"Fine," he answered too quickly.

Beth looked up at him, finally meeting his gaze. She reached out, biting back a hiss from moving her torso, and gently placed her fingers under Daryl's bruised, left eye. Her eyes glanced over to the gashes at the start of his right brow, and then dropped to his lips. Her hand involuntarily lowered from his shiner to hover over his split, bottom lip. All the while Daryl's eyes followed her movements. Realizing she was awkwardly holding her hand near his mouth, mere inches from pressing the pads of her fingers against his full, swollen lip, she clenched her fist and brought it to her chest.

"You scared me," Beth blurted out, still holding Daryl's scrutiny.

"Makes two ah'us," his voice sounded lower than usual to her ears.

"I thought…" Beth paused, trying to find the right words to express her anguish without making Daryl uncomfortable, "All I kept picturin' was Len."

"Was never gonna' happen," Daryl replied, understanding the fear she had felt for him last night.

"Yeah, you told me," Beth smiled and fiddled with her thumbs in her lap, ignoring the discomfort from her neck as she moved it, and starred down at the dirt filled beds of her long ago manicured nails, "Ain't nobody able t'kill a Dixon 'cept 'nother Dixon."

When Daryl didn't reply, she thought maybe her impersonation of him had offended him. Turning her head to look back up at him, Beth was confused by the seriousness of his expression. She suddenly felt like she was back at the mortuary, eating peanut butter while Daryl shoveled jelly into his mouth using his fingers. The tension between them had returned. That same tension she felt when she had asked him what had changed his mind about the people of this world. It wasn't uncomfortable, and yet she felt on edge. She wasn't sure what it meant, however she knew that it was definitely something out of the ordinary in regards to her feelings surrounding Daryl Dixon. It was just _something_. An enigma. She didn't like it and she didn't dislike it. It was just there.

"What?" Beth finally asked. She had hoped he would explain himself on his own, but Beth knew Daryl, and his attention was beginning to make her feel self-conscious.

"Someone's gotta' look after ya'," Daryl admitted solemnly.

Beth's first reaction was to feel annoyed, for she was a capable person, but she knew Daryl had good intentions. He was simply trying to play the role he always had; guardian angel to the group. He never seemed to accept the praise of his self-appointed position, only the guilt when things went wrong. Beth didn't want that for Daryl. Even though she appreciated the fact that Daryl was trying to protect her, she knew it stemmed from the guilt of him not being able to save her father.

"I can take care of myself," Beth tried not to sound ungrateful.

"I know ya' can. Guess it's more ah'jus' returnin' the favor," Daryl nodded, staring into the tree line.

Beth sighed. It was just as she had thought, "You don't owe me nothin' Daryl. You couldn't have stopped the Governor and what happened to daddy. None of us could. I don't blame you for any of it and you shouldn't blame yourself. We already had this conversation."

Beth had joined Daryl's scanning of the tree line. There was nothing special about the trees, just the typical pine indigenous to Georgia, but they gave Beth something to focus on other than Daryl. The man next to her had gone silent and she wasn't sure whether to continue pressing that Daryl had no control over what happened at the prison or let it drop.

"Whadn't referrin' to yer' old man," Daryl pointed out softly.

Beth's lips tugged into a small smile, despite her body's immense aching, though she kept her sight on the trees. She recognized the roundabout gratitude Daryl wasn't outright communicating. He was thankful she hadn't given up on him when the prison fell, thankful that she had been so persistent with getting past his barricades, and maybe even thankful to her for being alive? For everything she's done looking out for him? For coming back to him? For restoring the hope that she had already given him once? She couldn't be sure of exactly what 'favor' he was returning, but it didn't matter. She was just happy he was still alive.

Daryl cleared his throat, "Haven't seen Rick fer' 'while."

The tension evaporated.

This was Daryl's way of suggesting he should get up and check on him. Beth sighed, compelling herself to sit up and lean back against the Blazer. When Daryl didn't immediately move away, Beth felt pleased with herself. At least he enjoyed her company. After indulging in the moment a few more seconds, Beth decided she would give Daryl the push he needed.

"'M fine. Go 'on and check on Rick," Beth forced a smile.

Daryl hesitated, but eventually rose and walked off. Once alone, Beth succumbed to everything that had just transpired. Letting her head rest against the cool metal of the vehicle, she closed her eyes. Hot tears spilled from the corners and Beth bit her lip, forcing herself to silence her oncoming sob.

Beth had lied. She was not _fine_. The truth was she had never been in so much pain her entire life.

...

They had followed the tracks, deciding to give this 'Terminus' place a chance. They hadn't spoken much, each too caught up in their own replays of last night, but Beth had noticed how Daryl made sure he kept himself positioned next to her. He was just far enough that she didn't feel like he was hovering, but she knew the proximity was intentional.

Every step she took sent excruciating pain through her back, but she'd be damned if she said anything about it. She had caught up a bit with Michonne and Carl; though Rick had told her he was glad she made it back to them and not much else. Michonne was up ahead, talking to Rick, Daryl and her in the middle, with Carl lagging at the back. Rick stepped off the track and over to one of the Terminus signs that had fallen on the ground.

"We're gettin' close. Be there before sundown," Daryl announced, glancing down at the map.

"Now we head through the woods. We don't know who they are," Rick directed.

"Alright," Daryl agreed and began heading towards the woods without a second thought.

Rick was right, they _didn't_ know who the people were and if Woodbury was any indication of 'civilization' in the apocalypse, Beth was much happier being safe than sorry.

...

Beth stayed near Carl and Michonne while Daryl and Rick took point and approached the chain link fence. Daryl indicated they all come forward and each of them huddled near the fence to scope out the 'sanctuary.' It looked peaceful enough, but there wasn't a soul in sight, which unnerved Beth. Her gut told her they should run; that this place was bad news.

"We all spread out, watch for ah'while, see what we see, and get ready," Rick spoke softly; his breath fogging in the cool air, "We all stay close."

Beth instinctively went to scout with Daryl. It was an unspoken agreement when she met his fleeting look. The two of them had grown accustomed to working as a team. They walked down the fence line, Michonne and Carl a good distance behind them having their own private conversation, and Beth voiced her anxiety to Daryl.

"This ain't right," she whispered.

"It ain't," Daryl agreed.

"I haven't seen a single person yet," Beth pointed out.

"Me neither," Daryl answered while his eyes scanned the area past the fence line.

"I don't like this. I got a bad feelin'," Beth tried not to sound panicked.

Daryl turned his attention to Beth. His crystal blue eyes examining her and she felt nervous all over again. He was biting on his lower lip and Beth waited for him to speak his mind. She knew Daryl wasn't keen on his personal space being invaded, but Beth needed stability. She had a million different emotions going through her.

Timidly she reached out and fisted the hem of his leather vest with her hand. His vest, those broad angelic wings that were always splayed across his back, were as constant as Daryl himself. He had always been there, even when he wasn't physically with her, and at some point he had become the only person Beth needed. While she prayed Maggie and Glenn had made it out alive, that they would one day be reunited, Daryl was the one who was with her.

Staring down at her hand, Beth knew the material should feel cool, soft from weathering, but all she felt was peace. She wasn't brave enough to look up at Daryl. She didn't want to know whether he approved or objected because she needed this. She needed the security. They could very well be stalking into their own deaths and Beth wanted to have this last moment before they faced the unknown.

"Beth," it wasn't a question, it was an attempt to gain her attention.

She ignored him. He could have his damn flaws. He could be uncomfortable. For once she was going to be selfish. She stepped closer, leaving no space between them, and pressed her forehead to his chest. He was a full head taller than her, broader than her, and even his aura was bigger than she was. He was brash, uncouth, temperamental, stereotyped, misunderstood, caring, protective, and noble. He was her anchor.

She didn't know what she expected him to do. She had hugged him before, at the prison, held hands in front of a gravestone she had wished she could have provided for her father, and he had carried her around when she had hurt her ankle, but none had been as familiar as this. He was tense, unmoving, and Beth was afraid she had overstepped an invisible boundary.

Just when she was about to pull away, Beth felt a warm pressure on the crown of her head, and she was relieved. Maybe Daryl needed this as much as she did? Maybe he knew she just needed someone to hold her up? Maybe he needed the comfort too? Regardless, she appreciated that he let her stay and reciprocated the gesture.

She would have probably laughed at the picture they painted; his crossbow in one hand, the other awkwardly holding her elbow, his chin resting on top of her head from where she pressed her forehead against his chest, while she moved her hands to desperately clutch at the opening of his vest.

They stayed that way for a long time. Beth had long since closed her eyes and was breathing in the earthy, natural fragrance that was Daryl. She could have stayed that way forever, but she knew their environment would eventually catch up with them. Sighing loudly, she lifted herself off his chest to look up at him.

He stared down at her with an expression so vulnerable it made Beth smile. For all his foul mouth, rugged façade, this was the Daryl that only he allowed her to see. Daryl was never one for words, expressing his intentions through gestures, so this action meant more to her than anything anyone had ever said to her.

"Thanks," she beamed up at him.

"Didn't do 'nothin'," he replied shrugging, letting his hand fall from its hold on her arm.

"No. You did," Beth furrowed her brows to make sure he understood, "I needed the comfort. Thank you."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Daryl cleared his throat, reaching up and rubbing his chin, while scanning through the fence line once more.

Beth still held onto his vest. He wasn't understanding how much she appreciated him allowing her this small repose in a world so twisted. He was brushing it off as 'no big deal,' like he had just stood there and let her lean on him, but it was so much more than that. He had allowed her a moment of weakness, acted as a shield, and didn't try to convince her to feel anything other than what she needed to feel.

Bravery taking hold, as if Daryl had sent her some of his own inner strength, Beth stepped back into Daryl's personal space, lifted herself onto her toes, and pressed a soft kiss to Daryl's cheek. His skin wasn't soft, as his scruff kept her from feeling much of it anyway, but he was warm. He was alive. He was strong. She wanted him to feel her appreciation and if Daryl only expressed himself through actions, then maybe he acknowledged others the same way.

She stepped back, only pressing her lips against his cheek for a few seconds, and let go of his vest. She saw the muscle in his jaw jump a couple of times and couldn't help another smile. She had caught him off guard and he had no idea how to categorize the data she had just provided.

"I'm gonna' check on Carl and Michonne. I wanna' make sure Carl's okay with everything…after what happened last night," Beth announced. It was probably best she gave him a moment to get his thoughts in order.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, still scanning Terminus.

Beth examined his profile, shaking her head at how surprisingly easy it was to throw him off kilter, and turned to approach Carl and Michonne a couple of feet down the fence. She had gotten through to Daryl and if she died today, she could go in peace, knowing that he finally understood just how grateful she was to him for everything he'd done for her.

...

Terminus was like a ghost town. They had scaled the fence, worked their way through the maze of warehouses, and there was no one in sight. When they finally heard the sound of a woman's voice, Daryl took point, and led them inside one of the rundown structures.

There was a woman on some sort of broadcasting device, reading off what apparently Daryl and his group had heard on the radio the day they had made a run in the Charger. Beth glanced around trying to get a headcount. There were two or three women and five to six men.

Rick stepped forward and began speaking with one of the men she counted. As the two men spoke, Beth's skin began to crawl. Things just felt _off_. She glanced between Michonne on her right and Daryl on her left, trying to see if she was just being paranoid or if the feeling was mutual. Michonne's eyes stayed trained on Rick, but Daryl caught her movement. The knowing look he gave her made her grip her crossbow so tightly she swore the wood creaked.

"You here to rob us?" The man asked calmly.

"No," Rick replied smoothly, "We wanted to see you before you saw us."

As Rick holstered his gun, Beth's stomach began doing circles. He was allowing himself to be completely exposed to these strangers. Beth wanted to raise her crossbow and put the man in her sights, but Michonne's katana was still in it's sheath and Daryl's crossbow was facing the ground.

"Makes sense," the man replied, proceeding to step forward and 'welcome' them to Terminus.

Beth didn't trust him. She had met the Governor. She knew how suave people could be to get you on their side. She wasn't about to fall for it again.

The man introduced himself as Gareth, making small talk, trying to seem friendly. Rick reciprocated and introduced everyone in turn. Gareth mocked their uneasiness, claiming they had all been the same way when they had first arrived, but tried to ease their suspicions by telling them they had found 'sanctuary.' Gareth then called forth a man from the group, Alex, and presented him as a sort of tour guide.

Beth nervously moved her weight from foot to foot. She could catch glimpses of Carl from the corner of her eyes, just past Daryl, but she didn't dare take her eyes off the two men close to Rick. Gareth mentioned something of a 'welcome wagon' in the front, but wasn't paying attention to his exact words, as she was too busy keeping her eyes on everyone else. That was until he asked them to show them their weapons.

"…if you could just lay them down in front of you," Gareth finished.

They were at a stalemate. Beth was taken back to the time she was alone, witnessing all the horrors of what happened to the people the moment they were defenseless, and back to her sporting goods store incident with Joe's band of merry men. Everyone exchanged glances and it wasn't until Rick nodded and unholstered his gun that they began unveiling all the weapons on their person.

"Alright," Rick said as he bent down and put his gun on the ground.

"I'm sure you understand," Gareth replied.

"Yes...I do," Rick countered, staring Gareth down as he spoke.

Once all their weapons lay before them, Gareth and Alex patted them down, making sure they were being honest with what they presented as _all_ their weapons. While patting Daryl down, Alex made a comment in regards to his physical appearance.

"I'd hate to see the other guy," he said jokingly.

"You would," Rick was somber.

"Did they deserve it?" He asked Carl as he patted him down.

"Yes," Carl answered in a tone that rivaled his father.

Through all the adrenaline she felt by their situation, she felt a small pang of relief by Carl's admission. At least he wasn't back to the Carl that had mercilessly shot an unarmed young man. He understood what his dad did and, more importantly, _why_ he did it. That it was out of necessity and not in cold blood. Beth had heard the tail end of Carl and Michonne's conversation before they jumped the fence.

Gareth gave a speech about not trying anything stupid and that as long as everyone followed the rules there wouldn't be any issues. Beth couldn't have cared less what he was saying. All she was focused on was her crossbow and her knife, lying on the ground in front of her, out of her reach. She noticed that Alex had walked to the end and bent down to hand Michonne her katana. Beside her, Daryl had taken it upon himself to pick up his crossbow, and Beth did the same.

When Alex handed Rick his weapons, he gave a sheepish smile to the group and announced, "Follow me."

Alex led them out through a door at the opposite side of the building from which they had entered. The bright light from the sun blinded Beth for a brief moment, raising the hand not holding her crossbow to block the sun until her eyes could adjust, as she followed behind Daryl.

"So how long this place been here?" Daryl asked, leading the group behind Alex.

"Since almost the start. All the camps got overrun," Alex glanced over his shoulder at them as they walked, "People started finding this place. Think it was instinct, ya' know?"

Beth still hadn't seen anyone. If she knew Daryl, he was trying to get information under the guise of harmless small talk. At least that's what she hoped. Carl, Michonne, and Rick seemed to be doing the same as her; looking for Terminus residents.

Alex continued his rambling until they approached a woman with long, brown hair pulled to the side in a braid, cooking behind a grill.

"Hi," she greeted them sweetly, "Heard you came in the back door. Smart. You'll fit right in here."

They all looked to one another, but no one responded to the compliment.

"Hey, Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a plate for me?" Alex inquired.

There were a few people scattered, sitting at tables, but not enough to count as the bulk of the community. They almost looked staged. Beth watched them and adjusted her grip on her crossbow.

"Why do you do it? Why let people in?" Michonne spoke for the first time since they'd entered Terminus.

"The more people become a part of us, we get stronger," Alex stated matter-of-factly, "That's why we put up the signs. Invite people in. It's how we survive."

Beth had noticed a change in Rick's stance. He seemed to be calculating something, but she wasn't sure exactly what he had noticed. She looked over the people in the 'dining' area once more. No one was paying them much mind, each tending to their own business, and as staged as they seemed, they didn't appear to be hostile.

"Here," Alex regained her attention when he began handing out plates of food, _meat_ to be exact.

Carl took a plate and Alex turned to Mary for another. It was then that Rick stepped forward, knocking the plate out of his hand intended for Michonne, pulling something out of Alex's pocket and pointing his gun to their 'tour guides' head. Beth reacted instantly; pulling her crossbow up and setting her sights on Alex.

"Where tha' hell'd you get this watch," Rick demanded.

Beth's eyes widened at the watch Rick held in his hand. It was her father's. He had given it to Glenn when he gave Glenn his blessing to marry Maggie. Her heart dropped to her feet and she could feel the choking sensation of sorrow creeping up her throat and threatening to spill from her eyes. She turned her sights onto the people around them, recognizing the tattered poncho Maggie had last been seen with, the body armor that Glenn had used at the prison, and an orange backpack that she was sure had once belonged to someone _outside_ of Terminus.

Rick repeated his question.

"You want answers? You want anything else? You get them when you put _down_ the gun!" Alex tried to sound threatening.

What Alex failed to realize was that he didn't know Rick Grimes. Rick had lead them through the tightest of spots, handled every situation thrown at them, and he wasn't a man anyone could intimidate.

"Look, I see your man on the roof with the sniper rifle. Now how good's his aim?" Rick was turning the tables on Alex, "_Where'd you get the watch?_"

Alex refused to answer.

"WHERE'D YOU GET THE WATCH!" Rick bellowed.

There were so many people now, along the roofs, coming out from alleyways, and from within buildings. Beth cursed herself for wishing she had ever wanted to see more of these people. Her wish had _definitely_ been granted.

Alex was yelling at the sniper telling him not to do anything. Beth felt like her head was on a swivel. Her aim darted from person to person, unable to identify who the nearest threat would be.

"I got if off a dead one. Didn't think he'd need it," Alex finally admitted.

Beth felt a sob try and escape her. She was conflicted between the emptiness trying to overwhelm her and the adrenaline keeping her focused. Her worse fears had been realized.  
_  
Maggie and Glenn are dead._

"What about the riot gear…the poncho," Rick turned Alex toward the items he specified.

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop. Found the poncho on a clothesline," Gareth appeared behind them.

Dead cop? Clothesline? Beth was utterly confused. Between the two statements she wasn't sure what to think. She knew the three articles had belonged to Maggie and Glenn, so for them to suggest they had been found separately was an obvious lie. Beth dared to hope.

Alex was pleading with Gareth to wait. Gareth kept shutting him down. Beth could feel the anxiety level rising. She kept her trigger finger ready.

"Rick what do you want?" Gareth proposed.

"_Where are our people?_" Rick hissed.

"You didn't answer the question," Gareth indicated.

Before Rick had the chance to respond, shots were fired, and Alex was slain acting as a shield for Rick. Things turned chaotic in a matter of seconds and they were forced to run. Beth's body screamed at her in protest, but she pushed through the pain.

Every time they tried to make a turn, or dash for a building, shots were fired at their feet. Beth had tried to take out a sniper, but was unable to get a clear shot and there were just too many to single one out.

When they finally made it inside a building, the doors were slammed shut before they could reach them. Daryl yelled and they all ran back to a barred entryway. Unable to get through, Rick pointed out the door across from them. They exited to building into an alleyway. Immediately more shots were fired, forcing them to continue down the alleyway.

The pain coursing through her body was almost unbearable. She chose to focus on the pair of wings engraved in leather and keep her thoughts solely on making her feet continue to move. Her confusion didn't help matters. These people weren't aiming to kill, which made no sense, but Beth didn't have the luxury of coming up with a logical reason for this. The only thing she could do was run where they were coerced to run and keep up with Daryl.

They ran by a chain link cage and Beth noted the bone yard within. She struggled to breathe as a million hypotheses ran through her head. The only obvious answer she could acknowledge was the possibility of cannibalism. It made the most sense. Lure tired, weary, unsuspecting people in with promises of safety, sanctuary, and community. Feed them. Earn their trust. Then metaphorically…or literally stab them in the back, slice them up, and serve them for dinner.

Her theory was further supported when they ran by train carts. She could hear people banging within, begging for help, and pleading to be let out.

"_What tha' hell_?" Daryl yelled as they ran past.

"JUST GO!" Rick screamed as they ran inside another building.

They burst through a doorway, not prepared for the sight before them. The room was filled with lit candles, cryptic phrases along the walls, and what Beth could only assume were people's names written in a circular formation along the floor with personal items littering the ground. It was almost like a sacrificial chamber.

"What tha' hell is the place?" Carl muttered as they searched the room.

"These people, I don't think they're trying to kill us," Michonne conceded.

"No. They were aiming at our feet," Rick agreed, "There."

They ran toward the door Rick pointed out just as a man appeared from behind and slammed it shut.

"Here," Daryl signaled towards another door.

They rushed through the door, taking them back outside, only to be cut off by more gunfire. To her left Beth could see the fence, just as everyone else seemed to notice it, and her feet pushed her harder. If they could just reach the fence, they could escape.

The flight response in her faded the moment she saw the men rise up from behind the foliage; blocking their last viable escape route. Snipers were now perched on the roofs surrounding them. There were people visible around the corners of buildings aiming at them. There was nowhere left for them to run.

"Drop your weapons! NOW!" A voice Beth recognized as Gareth's came from the rooftop directly behind them.

None of them moved.

"_Now!"_ The voice repeated.

Beth heard the clank of Daryl's crossbow hitting the ground. Michonne knelt down and let go of her katana. Beth, Rick, and Carl each began detaching their weapons. When all their weapons were on the ground, they stood, waiting for their judgment.

Beth felt ill. She knew from the start that they shouldn't have come here. She _knew_ something like this was going to happen. Assuming she made it out of this alive, she was _never_ going against her gut _ever_ again.

"Ringleader," Gareth was now visible on the roof, "go to your left. The train car, go."

Rick hesitated.

"You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies and you end up in there anyway," Gareth commanded.

Rick and Carl exchanged gazes. Beth felt helpless. She glanced at Daryl beside her and knew he felt the same. She cautiously moved her hand far enough to wrap her pinky finger around Daryl's. As soon as her finger touched his, Daryl clasped her finger so hard it began going numb. He was just as scared as she was.

"Now the archer," Gareth ordered, pointing at Daryl.

Daryl faltered. He loosened his grasp on her finger, only to give it one more tight squeeze before letting go completely. She watched as he stalked toward the train car.

"Now the samurai," Gareth referred to Michonne.

Beth turned her attention to Carl. His eyes were as frantic as she felt. She hoped her expression told him it would be okay. She wanted _so badly_ for Carl to understand her; that she would die fighting before she let anything happen to him. His nod was enough understanding for her.

"Now the blondie," Gareth singled her out.

She kept her eyes on Carl, returning the nod, before lifting her vision to Gareth. In all her silly fantasies, she had never wanted the ability to kill someone with her sight so badly than she did in this moment. She had walked a few paces, glancing back to catch Carl staring toward them, and she was tempted to run back and snatch him to her. Gareth hadn't called for Carl to walk towards the train car yet and while she knew she'd be shot dead before she even reached Carl, probably causing his death as well, the protective instinct within her made the idea hard to ignore.

"Stand at the door, ringleader, archer, samurai, blondie, in that order," Gareth directed.

"My son!" Rick hollered.

There was a brief pause and Beth held her breath.

"Go kid," Gareth finally relinquished.

Carl immediately began approaching the train car. Beth let out a stuttering exhale. She didn't trust that they wouldn't shoot any of them on the spot, but at least Carl wasn't standing out there alone.

"Ringleader, open the door and go in," Gareth yelled.

"I'll go in with him," Rick refuted.

"Don't make us kill him now," Gareth's reply was a serious threat.

Beth tried to remain calm, keeping eye contact with Carl. They each filed into the train car and the moment Carl made it to the stairs, Rick was reaching for him. With Carl out of immediate danger, Beth could finally breathe. She turned to Daryl, who had closed the train car door, and felt an overwhelming sense of alleviation. She wrung her hands awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to give hugs to each and every one of them, but wasn't sure Daryl would be up for such interaction.

Michonne and Rick were both paying more attention to Carl and Beth needed some sort of release. She was a jumble of emotions. Daryl must have understood her discomfort because he walked straight to her and wrapped both his arms around her shoulders.

It was awkward and Daryl was tense in his embrace, but it warmed her heart that he was trying. The moment Beth snaked her arms around his torso and turned her head to rest on his chest, his body went lax.

"I thought…" Beth couldn't finish her sentence. The reality that they could all have just been gunned down was still too fresh for words.

"I know. Me too," Daryl had understood her unspoken fear.

Beth pulled back to look up at him, hoping her expression communicated all the things she couldn't say. Daryl nodded, glancing over at Rick, and then brought his attention back to Beth. They held each other in a loose embrace and she searched his eyes. The muscles in his jaw jumped a few times and Beth tilted her head ever so slightly, not sure what he was thinking. It was the same expression he'd had in the woods not long ago. Then something changed.

The tension Beth had been struggling to understand had returned and she finally recognized what it meant.

His grip around her shifted. His breathing seemed a bit labored. His eyes were focused solely on hers. Beth's heartbeat spiked, giving her a completely new surge of adrenaline, and she subconsciously shifted closer. Lifting her head, her eyes danced between his, she was unsure of exactly where they were taking things, but was excited to continue down the path.

His face drifted closer to hers and Beth resisted standing on her tiptoes to meet him halfway. She could feel his breath on her face and she let her eyes flutter close. Just as she felt the rough texture of his facial brushing her skin a voice sounded from within the dark.

"Rick?"

They both froze. Daryl drew back and the expression they shared confirmed that Daryl had recognized the voice the same as she had.

Glenn stepped out from the darkened corner of the train car.

"You're here," Rick's voiced was filled with disbelief, "_You're here_," he repeated firmly.

They all stood still, as if not believing the people standing before them were real. However, the moment Maggie came into view Beth broke down. She rushed to her sister, fighting a losing battle against the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

The girls embraced, rejoicing in the fact that they were both alive. The moment was cut short when Maggie pulled away and turned to look back at the people standing behind them, "They're our friends. They helped save us."

Beth stepped back, brushing against Daryl while she wiped her silent tears, and took in the people Maggie had introduced. There were four unfamiliar faces along with Sasha and Bob.

"Yeah," Daryl spoke up, "Now they're friends ah' ours."

"Fer' however long that'll be," a larger man with red hair and a trucker mustache remarked.

"No," Rick's simple reply held a grave undertone.

The larger man stopped mid-turn to stare at Rick skeptically.

Beth glanced up at Daryl. He nodded and she turned back to take in the fact that her sister was alive and standing before her. Reaching out, Beth took Maggie's hand. Maggie squeezed it twice, they're secret language to tell the other that 'they were okay,' 'I love you,' 'they supported one another,' and everything else that the gesture had meant to them over the years. Beth returned the action with two clutches of her own.

She felt Daryl lean into her. This was his way of letting her know he was there. Beth couldn't help the smirk that spread across her lips as she wondered when she had become so good at non-verbal communication and understanding what each gesture Daryl made meant. Regardless of whether they lived or died tomorrow, Beth couldn't help but renege on her previous commandment and be thankful that she hadn't listened to her gut.

Rick nodded a couple of times, assessing the group in front of him, and took a step toward a crack in the train car siding, "They're gonna' feel pretty stupid when they find out."

"Find out what?" The larger man asked.

Rick looked through the crack. He then turned to face the newcomers to their group. His expression grave, tone deadly and confidence radiating, he answered.

"They're screwing with the wrong people."  
_  
They would survive Terminus._

**A/N: **AAAAAANNNNNDDDDD there you have it! The last chapter of part one!

I must profusely apologize for how long it took me to post. I've been sick with the flu, which then turned into a sinus infection, so needless to say, I haven't felt like staring at a computer screen.

To my guest reviewers: THANK YOU! I would personally respond to each one of your reviews, but as there was no username to PM, I just want you to know that I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to leave me a review! Several of them made me giggle and all of them made me smile! 3

I want to thank each and every one of you who followed, commented, and took the time to read my fanfic. This was so much fun to write! I WILL BE CONTINUING THIS! Don't worry! : )

I'm going to take some time to plot out what I think would be a realistic plot for "season 5" and do my best to keep it from getting unrealistic. It's going to be hard because my imagination loves to run away with Daryl and Beth, but I hope I don't disappoint!

XOXO


	8. PART 2 IS UP!

The sequel to For the Ones you Love is up! I've titled it:

For the Ones You Change

Also in order to keep you guys occupied while the Walking Dead isn't on AND to give me time to get my creative juices working on the second part of my trilogy, I decided to try my hand at drabbles.

I've titled it:

The Adventures of the Greene Dixon

I've never written them before and I thought it'd be fun to see the little snippets of how I think Daryl and Beth got so close in regards to their relationship in my story. We didn't get much of a time frame in season four so I could justifiably believe they were together for a month or two before they got separated. Being together with someone _day_ and _night,_ in the apocalypse, anyone would get close to their companion. Add the fact that Beth and Daryl had already known each other for over a year (going by the seasons since no definite time has ever been established), they're already familiar with each other. They would just build from that and get to know each other more intimately; as I will express in these drabbles! : )

Hope these drabbles keep you satisfied until then!

XOXO


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